


A Light in the Mirror

by Seraphtrevs



Series: A Light in the Mirror [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-28
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirrorverse AU.  Gul Elim Garak has always been hated and feared, but when a strange Terran from another universe mistakes him for his lover, Garak gets a glimpse of a life he might have led.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic contains depictions of slavery, although it's not non-con. However, things do get a little bumpy up ahead, so proceed with caution.
> 
> This fic is an AU of the episode “Crossover;" in other words, it takes the same basic premise and shuffles things around a little. It shouldn't be too hard to follow.

The Terran looked familiar.

This in and of itself was not much of a surprise; all Terrans looked alike to Garak. However, this one was so unusual that it seemed like the memory would be clearer. It wasn't so much that his physical characteristics were strange: dark hair, a tawny complexion, fine facial features that could be considered attractive, if you liked that sort of thing. What made him different was that he clean, well-groomed, and healthy. He was also wearing a strange outfit; it was blue through the neck and shoulders and black the rest of the way down. But the difference in this Terran was much deeper than the merely cosmetic, and took Garak a moment to put his finger on it: he didn't have the broken, shut-down look of most Terrans. He had dignity.

Garak watched him for a moment in the security feed of the holding cell. He sat on the bench, tapping his foot. Occasionally, he would get up and pace around the room. Most Terrans would be cowering in terror, or else hunched over in deadened acceptance of their fate. Garak found that prisoners were more pliable if given time to stew in their fear, but it didn't seem to be working on this one. If anything, he looked impatient.

He'd arrived on the station about an hour ago in a strange shuttle craft which had appeared out of nowhere. Two Klingon had beamed aboard and discovered this Terran and a woman they had mistaken for the Intendant. The mistake was soon found out when the Klingons had contacted the station and discovered that the Intendant had never left. She ordered the Klingons to deliver the strangers to the station; once they arrived, she had them put in separate holding cells until they could be questioned. Garak had been called to interrogate the Terran while the Intendant questioned the woman.

Garak took a moment to prepare himself before opening the door. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but he could already tell that this wasn't going to be a standard interrogation. Even though he was on his guard, what happened next was something he never could have anticipated. When the Terran saw him, he didn't drop to his knees and beg for mercy, or scream, or glare at him defiantly. Instead, a look of relief passed across his face. “Elim!” he said.

Garak was stunned. He hadn't been called by his given name in years. How did this Terran know it? And how did this Terran know _him_? Before he could ask, the Terran threw himself into his arms and kissed him full on the lips.

“I can't tell you how happy I am to see you,” he said when he broke the kiss. “The Major and I were coming back from a conference, and when we came through the wormhole, we found the station orbiting _Bajor_. Then these Klingons beamed aboard, and they acted like they knew Major Kira – actually, they seemed sort of afraid of her, which was odd. Anyway, they were very respectful for a little while and offered to escort us back to the station, but then they got a message and went all stony on us. Once we got here, they whisked her off and brought me to this cell, and no one's said a word to me in over an hour. Have you seen her? Is she all right?”

Garak was completely flummoxed. The Terran was pressed up against him in a very distracting manner, his arms draped over Garak's shoulders. Even more strangely, Garak found that his own hands had settled themselves on the Terran's hips; how that had happened was beyond him. “She's fine,” he said eventually.

“Well, that's a relief,” the Terran said. He pulled back a little. “So what's happened here? Why has the station been moved? And why are you dressed like this?” he said, poking at his uniform. “Is this armor?”

Garak still wasn't sure what to do with himself. “It's my uniform,” he said haltingly.

“I've traveled to the future, haven't I?” the Terran said. “The shuttle went through a space-time anomaly, and that's why you're gaping at me like that. How long have I been gone? You don't look much older – but then again, I've always had trouble telling how old Cardassians are. It has to have been a few years at least, because everything's so different. Have the Cardassians taken control of the station again?”

Garak knew he should probably push the Terran off and start a proper interrogation. Then again, the Terran was already being very chatty. He should let the situation play itself out. At least that's what he told himself; it certainly had nothing to do with how warm the Terran felt against him. “This is Bajor's station, although Cardassia has some influence.”

“The Bajorans and the Cardassians working together? I didn't think that would ever be possible – at least not in this century. Does that mean you've been un-banished? Well, that's good news, at least, although I've never understood why you wanted to go back after the way they treated you.” The Terran stopped talking for a moment and peered at Garak. “Has it been that long?” he asked gently. “You're looking at me as if you've never seen me before in your life.”

Before Garak could come up with an answer, the door opened and the Intendant entered the room. The Terran's face lit up again. “Major Kira! Thank goodness you're all right.” He looked her up and down. “What are you doing in that godawful get-up?”

After a moment of stunned silence, the Intendant started laughing. “She's right – you _are_ arrogant,” she said. She addressed Garak. “You can stop questioning him – I've already figured out what happened. Although I have to admit, that's a very intriguing interrogation technique you're employing,” she said with a smirk. “How's it working?”

“Interrogation?” The Terran gave Garak a confused look. “Elim – what's going on?”

The Intendant laughed again. “' _Elim?_ ' Oh, this just keeps getting more and more interesting!”

“You aren't Major Kira, are you,” the Terran said, although he seemed to already know the answer.

“And he catches on! No, I'm not _Major_ Kira Nerys. I'm _Intendant_ Kira Nerys, and this is my second-in-command, Gul Garak. I think you might have mistaken him for someone else.”

The Terran gave Garak another confused look and stepped away.

“So I'm curious,” the Intendant said. “Do you know who Captain Kirk is? The other Nerys had never heard of him.”

A look of understanding came across the Terran's face. “Yes, I've heard of him. Have you had any trouble with your transporters recently?”

The Intendant smiled. “We haven't, but you've got the right idea.”

 _The transporter accident,_ Garak thought. Of course. The Terran was from an alternate universe – that would explain his strange notions and why he thought he knew Garak.

“Your Kirk was a great man,” the Intendant said. “Because of him, the leaders of the Terran Empire embraced the ideals of freedom and equality, making it really easy to overthrow them and enslave their people.”

“The Terrans are enslaved?” he said faintly.

“Yes,” the Intendant said, clearly enjoying herself. “Unfortunately for you, the Alliance learned from the Terrans' mistake and had all transporters reconfigured to prevent further interference from your universe. I'm not sure how the two of you managed to slip through. I should probably have you executed; that's the standing orders if we find anyone from your universe. I'm worried that I might get into trouble with my superiors if I don't.”

She allowed the Terran a moment of terror before she started laughing. “I'm just kidding – I don't give a shit what my superiors think. This is my station, so I make the rules. I'm certainly not about to execute the other Nerys; depriving our universe of such a lovely, intelligent young woman would be a crime. You, on the other hand, are disposable.”

 _I could hide him,_ Garak thought. The Intendant always left the executions to him; he could simply tell her he was dead, and then keep him somewhere safe. But why would he want to? Where had that thought come from?

Before he could give the matter more thought, the Intendant spoke again. “However, the other Nerys thinks that you could benefit from some humbling, and I make it a point to never question myself.” She turned to Garak. “Put him to work. Although if you want to 'interrogate' him a little more, go right ahead. You're too uptight – you should have a little fun every now and then.” With that, she sauntered out of the room.

“What does that mean?” the Terran asked.

Garak found that he couldn't answer, so he left the room. Telok, his top Klingon officer, was stationed outside. “Take that one to Odo and have him put to work.” Garak left quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing the Terran shouting his name as he was dragged from the room. He didn't look back.

Garak avoided the ore processing section for the rest of the day, choosing instead to work on some reports in his quarters. The work was mind-numbing, which was what he needed. He didn't want to think about what had happened. It worked for a little while, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering back to the strange Terran.

He'd said he was happy to see him. No one had ever said that to him before. Everyone he interacted with hated or feared him – most often a combination of the two. Even his own mother had never liked him. She was fond of telling him how the day he was born was the worst day of her life. She'd been raped by some high-ranking military official and cursed the fact that she'd been unable to end the pregnancy. Why she didn't smother him in his cradle was a mystery both to her and to Garak.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been called by his given name, and he had certainly never heard it said with such affection and warmth. This other Elim must be very different from him. He wondered what his life was like. Was he well-loved by everyone, or just this one man? What had he done to earn such apparent devotion? He unconsciously touched his fingers to his lips. The Terran had been so soft, and so warm.

He shook himself out of it. It was useless to speculate about such things; this universe was the one he lived in, and he had clawed out a place for himself in it. That place had no room for Terran lovers, no matter how warm they were. He was not someone who indulged in that sort of decadence; that was the Intendant's weakness, and it would be her undoing eventually. Garak had ambitions that he was determined to fulfill.

By nighttime, Garak had convinced himself that he didn't care what happened to the Terran. He would probably die within the week anyway, since he didn't look like he was used to hard labor. That was probably for the best. He went to bed and did not dream; he had trained himself out of dreams a long time ago.

* * *

The next day, he went back to his normal routine of patrolling the ore processing area. The night's rest had done him good; he was able to shake off the previous day and dismiss it as an anomaly. Terrans were disgusting, devious creatures, he reminded himself. He'd been caught off-guard, but he wouldn't let it happen again.

Or so he told himself. Around mid-afternoon, he sought out Odo to discuss some business with him. He found the supervisor enthusiastically disciplining a Terran, which was not unusual. He would normally think nothing of it, but the Terran in question was _his_ Terran. He was lying on the floor, his clothing torn and dirty. He did not appear conscious. Odo was kicking him in the ribs.

“Stop!” Garak said. “What are you doing?”

“This one was being insolent,” Odo said. “I'm teaching him obedience.”

“Well, he's not likely to learn anything while he's unconscious, is he?” Garak snapped. He knelt down beside the Terran and put two fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse. He was still alive, but badly beaten. “Why were you beating him?” he asked as he continued to examine him.

“He was lagging behind. I told him to pick up the pace and he ignored me. I thought a thrashing would convince him to be less lazy, but it appears I was wrong.”

He put an arm under the Terran's shoulders and tilted him upright. His eyes appeared sunken, and his skin was very dry. “He's dehydrated, you idiot,” Garak said.

“Since when have you cared about the well-being of a Terran?”

 _A very good question._ “Since when have you talked back to your superiors?” Garak shot back. “Do you know what I spent most of yesterday doing? Going over reports about how stunningly inefficient this station is. We should be producing ore at twice our current capacity. I've been wracking my brain as to what the problem may be, and I think I may have found it. I know that you're some freak of nature with no physical needs, but actual living beings need food, water and rest. Do you understand that, or is your brain as gloppy as the rest of you?”

Odo was taken aback, which is exactly what Garak had been aiming for. “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “I assure you, I make sure they are adequately watered and fed. But this one has been insolent from the very start. You should have heard the way he spoke to me yesterday.”

“What's his name?”

“He said he didn't have a designation.”

“I didn't ask for his designation – I asked you for his name. Can you answer a simple question, or are you even more dangerously incompetent than I thought?”

“No, sir,” Odo said.

“No, you're not incompetent; or no, you can't answer a simple question?”

“I'm not incompetent,” Odo said, scrambling. “His name – yes, I remember. Julian Bashir.”

“Julian,” Garak echoed. At that, the Terran's eyes fluttered open. They were golden brown, with flecks of green. He met Garak's gaze for a moment, and then lost consciousness again, his head lolling against Garak's chest. Garak put his other arm under his knees and lifted him off of the ground. Odo looked at him like he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had.

“Are you going to interrogate him?” Odo asked haltingly. “I can have someone assist you in moving him – ”

“What I'm going to do with him is none of your business,” Garak said. “You would do well to remember that you are nothing more than a pile of slime some Bajoran scientist scraped off of a piece of space debris. You're a useful tool, nothing more. Do the job you've been given, or we'll find a different tool.”

“Yes, sir.”

That ought to leave him sufficiently terrified of speaking about this to anyone. Garak knew this would probably get back to the Intendant eventually, but he was hoping for some undisturbed time to figure out what exactly he was doing. He really had no idea why he had saved the Terran; he only knew that he could not watch him die. He looked down at the man in his arms. _Julian._ What a lovely name.

He took the roundabout way back to his quarters. A few Klingon officers saw him, but they were all ones loyal to him; most of the Klingons were. He brought the Terran through the door and laid him on the sofa. Fortunately, he kept a medical kit in his room; his line of work often left him with minor injuries, and he didn't trust the station's Bajoran medic. He retrieved the kit and returned to Julian's side.

A quick hypospray took care of his dehydration; his other injuries required more care. He gave him another hypospray with a sedative to keep him still while he repaired his broken ribs. He removed Julian's torn clothing in as clinical a fashion as he could muster (he was many things, but a rapist wasn't one of them). There were cuts and bruises all over his body; Garak healed each and every one of them. When the healing was finished, Garak returned to the washroom to fetch a cloth and a basin of warm water. He cleaned the dirt, blood and sweat from the Terran's skin with a tenderness he hadn't known he was capable of.

With that finished, he searched for some clothing. He settled on some of his own night clothes. The trousers were a little too short and the shirt was much too broad in the shoulders, but it worked for now. He carried him into the bedroom and laid him on the bed. As much as he would like to remain there until he regained consciousness, he knew that it wasn't possible. He had a reputation of never failing in his duties; to skip out on them again would raise suspicions. This was already a foolish indulgence; there was no need to make it worse by broadcasting it to people who could use it against him.

In fact, perhaps he should engage in a little preemptive damage control. He tapped his badge. “Garak to Telok.”

Telok responded immediately. “Yes, sir?”

“Bring a proximity restraint to my quarters.”

“Right away, sir.”

After a short time, Telok arrived with the restraint in hand. “As you requested, sir.”

Without another word, Telok turned to leave. Garak liked Telok. He possessed a natural dearth of curiosity that he found laudable. This time, however, he needed Telok to take more interest. “Before you go, there's something I want to share with you, but I would like you to be discreet. I've brought the Terran who arrived in the shuttle craft yesterday here, and I'm going to keep him. I think that he could prove useful in securing both of our futures on this station.”

There was no need to spell out what he meant; he and Telok collaborated on a regular basis on how to get rid of the Intendant once and for all. “How do you mean, sir?”

“You've heard of the famous transporter accident, I trust?”

Telok nodded.

“This Terran is from that universe, as is the woman who looks like the Intendant. We might be able to use him as leverage with the other Kira to get her to aid us.”

Telok smiled; it was not a pretty sight. “I can see how that could be useful.”

“Indeed. I'll keep you informed of my progress.”

Telok left. What Garak had said hadn't been untrue – he did have plans to use the other Kira, and the Terran might very well prove useful. Hopefully, telling Telok of those plans would insure that no one suspected any other motivation for keeping the Terran – Julian – here.

He went back to the bedroom and placed the receiver of the restraint on one of the bed legs before putting the cuff of the restraint on Julian's ankle. He set the proximity for a few meters. The restraint would allow Julian to walk as far as the washroom, but no farther. He made sure that there was nothing in his reach that could be used to tamper with the restraint. Lastly, he replicated some bread and a glass of water and put it by the bed; Julian would probably be hungry, and he was also hoping that when he saw that food had been left for him, he'd infer that Garak meant him no harm. After a moment's thought, he decided he should make that sentiment more explicit. He grabbed a padd and wrote him a brief note: _I've healed your injuries. I will return as soon as I am able._ He paused briefly before signing it _Elim._ He felt a little thrill at that.

With that settled, Garak returned to the processing center. He found Odo speaking with a blond Terran man. He was one of the good ones – quiet, serious, and obedient, with a talent for fixing things. The Terran was explaining that one of the machine's thorium containment cells needed to be upgraded. Garak was about to order him to make the necessary repairs when Sisko, the insufferable Terran pirate that the Intendant was enamored of, burst into the station with his unruly crew. He insisted that he needed the blond Terran to fix his ship. His arrogance made Garak's teeth grind, but there was nothing he could do. When he overthrew the Intendant, his first order would be to have Sisko and his crew pushed out an airlock.

Garak hoped the rest of the day would be uneventful, but that was unfortunately not the case. Just before he was about to leave for the evening, the machine the useful Terran had warned them about exploded. A piece of flying shrapnel hit Garak in the back. His armor protected him from serious damage, but it still managed to pierce through to his skin, leaving him with a painful, bleeding cut. Several Terrans were also injured, and one was killed. It was annoying in the extreme; every dead Terran required a report, and the injured ones would seriously hurt productivity. He left Odo to clean up the mess as he retreated to his quarters.

He unclasped his armor as soon as he walked in the door. With difficulty, he reached back to touch the wound; his hand came away black. It was worse than he thought. He was so distracted that he almost forgot about the Terran in the bedroom until he walked in. He was awake and sitting on the bed.

“Ah – hello,” Julian said awkwardly.

“Hello,” Garak said with just as much awkwardness.

Julian's gaze fell on Garak's hand. “That's blood,” he said. “Are you injured?”

“A cut on my back,” Garak said. “A machine malfunctioned and I was hit with debris.”

“I could look at if, if you like. I'm a doctor.”

He hesitated briefly before he went to fetch the medical kit. He handed it to Julian, then removed his shirt and sat down beside him. This was, without question, the stupidest thing he'd ever done; he was starting to seriously doubt his own sanity. He jumped when he felt Julian's gentle touch on his back.

“It doesn't seem too serious,” he said. “I think it nicked an artery, though.” He ran an instrument over the cut. “There. All better.”

Garak turned to look at him; their gazes met briefly. Julian's eyes really were remarkably lovely. Garak turned away and stood up. “I should clean up.” He walked to the washroom as quickly as possible without it looking like he was fleeing, pausing briefly to retrieve a set of leisure clothes from the bureau.

He stepped into the shower. Within a few minutes, he was clean and dressed again. He took a moment to compose himself before entering the bedroom again. His heart was beating a little faster, and his stomach felt fluttery. It was completely ridiculous – he was the second-in-command of a space station, not a lovesick school boy. He reminded himself that he was in control here, and the Terran was his to do with as his pleased.

“So,” he said as he entered the bedroom. “You're awake.” He mentally kicked himself – of all the stupid things to say. Of _course_ he was awake.

Julian gave him a small smile. “Yes,” he said. “My name is Julian, by the way. We didn't really have a proper introduction.”

“You don't remember me bringing you here?”

He shook his head. “The last thing I remember was Odo pulling me out of line and beating me. I passed out fairly quickly. You did a good job patching me up, incidentally. I was quite the worse for wear.”

Garak made a gruff, noncommittal grunt in response. He retrieved the key to the restraint from the pocket of his uniform trousers and went over to the bed. “I'm going to set the limits of the restraint for a longer distance, but you still won't be able to reach the door. It would do you no good to try to run off, anyway. You'd only be caught and brought back here, and that would put me in a very disagreeable mood. Do you understand?” Julian nodded. Satisfied, Garak reset the restraint. He was going to ask him if he was still hungry, but that was another moronic statement. He also didn't want to appear as if he was catering to him, so instead he said, “You will join me for dinner at the table.”

They moved to the dining area of his quarters. After Julian sat down, Garak went to the living area and hid the key well out of Julian's reach. He then went to the replicator. What should he order? He still didn't want to seem like he cared too much about Julian's comfort, so he should probably just order what he usually ate. Then again, it wasn't as if Julian knew what his tastes were, so he could get away with ordering something Julian might also like without it seeming like he cared. Of course, he had no idea what Terrans liked in the first place...

He was starting to get a headache. Why was everything so complicated all of a sudden? He settled on a Bajoran dish. Everyone liked Bajoran food – they were ruthless bastards, but they did know their food. He retrieved a bottle of his best kanar. Julian wouldn't know that Garak could barely afford it; perhaps he would be impressed that Garak could afford to waste such a luxury on a simple meal.

He set the plates on the table along with two glasses of water and additional glasses for the kanar. Julian began eating immediately with great gusto. As he ate, his shirt slipped off of his right shoulder in a tantalizing manner. Garak tried not to stare.

After Julian cleaned his plate, he downed his water in one long gulp. Garak poured him a glass of kanar. “So tell me,” Garak said. “What happened to you after you were taken to the processing area?”

Julian took the glass. “The Klingon dragged me in front of Odo. He kept asking for my designation; I had no bloody idea what that meant and I told him so, but he kept slapping me. It was terrible. He also made a very rude comment when I told him I was a doctor. The Odo on my side is not particularly genial, but he's a social butterfly compared to this one. I was thrown into work without the slightest indication of what it was I was supposed to do, and no one would talk to me at all.”

Garak took a sip of his kanar to avoid smiling; Julian sounded more indignant than traumatized. Normally, he hated that sort of arrogance in a Terran, but with Julian, he found it rather adorable. “No one told you anything - not even the other Terrans?”

“No. I think they were afraid to be seen speaking with me, and who can blame them? I have never seen such appalling treatment.”

Since no one had told Julian differently, Garak was free to make his own narrative. “Yes, it is appalling. I try to avoid the processing center as much as I can, but my duties often find me there. I knew when I was given this assignment it wouldn't be pleasant, but I had no idea exactly how awful this station would be. The Intendant is a cruel woman; she forbids any aid to the Terrans. I do what I can here and there, but I'm afraid it doesn't make much of a difference. She enjoys their suffering.”

A look of relief came over Julian's face. Garak took another sip of his kanar to hide his pleasure at Julian's willingness to believe him. “How awful,” Julian said. “I can't get over the strangeness of things here; the Kira in my universe is a wonderful person. It's difficult to think of any incarnation of her as someone as terrible as your Intendant seems.”

“Am I much different from your Elim?” Garak asked in what he hoped was a casual manner.

It was Julian's turn to stall with a sip of kanar. “I'm not sure yet,” he said after a moment.

“You and he are lovers, aren't you?”

“Yes,” Julian said. He seemed to notice his bare shoulder suddenly and adjusted his shirt to cover it. “So is there another Julian Bashir running around this station?” he said, very obviously changing the subject.

“Not that I'm aware.”

“Good. I don't think I could handle meeting another me – I've had enough strangeness for one day.”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Julian was the one to break the silence. “I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I'm curious as to why you saved me.”

Garak decided that declaring his attraction would not go over well, so he stuck with his other story. “I have a proposal for you,” Garak said. “I assume that you want to return to your own universe, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And I would like nothing more than to dispose the Intendant. I think that we might be able to help each other. Do you think your Kira would be willing to help us as well?”

“You want her to take the Intendant's place,” Julian said.

“You catch on quickly. I've been trying to knock her off her throne for years, but she's annoyingly resilient. And even if I were to succeed, the power struggle afterward would be unpleasant to say the least. However, if the reigns of power were willingly handed over to me...”

“I see,” Julian said. “And you'd help us leave after that.”

“Yes.”

“This plan would involve killing her, wouldn't it,” Julian said.

“Is that a problem?”

“I'm a doctor. My business is to heal people, not kill them.”

Garak wasn't sure what to say at first. A reverence for life was not something that he encountered very often. “If you don't help me stop her, she'll continue hurting and killing countless more Terrans.”

“I realize that. It's still not a decision I'd make lightly.”

“Of course,” Garak said. “Think on it for a bit. But don't take too long.”

Julian finished his kanar. “So what happens now?” he asked.

“I'm sure you're tired. You should get some rest.”

“Where? In your bed?”

“Your virtue is safe with me, if that's what you're worried about.”

That got a laugh out of him. Garak would have to figure out how to make that happen again. “That's awfully trusting of you. How do you know I won't try to hurt you in an escape attempt?”

“You'll notice that I haven't offered to remove your restraint. Harming me wouldn't get you very far. And I'm your best chance to get home. Why would you jeopardize that?”

“And how do I know you won't harm me?”

“Because you're _my_ best chance of overthrowing the Intendant. I've been waiting a very long time for an opportunity like this, and I need your cooperation. Besides, why would I go to the trouble of healing you if I was only going to hurt you again?”

Julian considered him for a moment. “I believe you,” he finally decided. He stood up and walked to the bedroom door. “I think I'll take a shower if that's all right with you.”

“Of course.”

Julian entered the bedroom and closed the door. A few moments later, Garak heard the water running. He decided he should work on some of those mind-numbing reports – anything to distract him from thoughts of a wet, naked Julian in the next room. Julian used about twenty minutes worth of hot water, which took up his ration for the week; Garak was surprised to find that he didn't mind in the slightest. He waited another half an hour before entering the bedroom. Julian was laid out on the bed on his stomach, fast asleep. His shirt was slightly raised, exposing a sliver of skin along his back. His hair was still damp.

Garak was struck with a surge of arousal so strong he had to steady himself against the wall. He went to the washroom and turned on the shower. All that was left was cold water, which was fine since that's what he needed. It still wasn't enough to thwart his desire, so he relieved himself with a few quick strokes of his hand.

After putting on his night clothes, he went to retrieve the restraint key. He reset the proximity for a smaller distance, then hid the key again. He returned to the bedroom. Julian was monopolizing most of the bed, but Garak managed to squeeze himself onto one side. He watched Julian sleep for awhile; it amazed him that it had been so easy to gain his trust. The universe he came from must be a much brighter place, where trust was a given rather than something rarely earned.

He reached out and stroked a finger lightly along his cheek; he couldn't help himself. Julian sighed and turned his head, but did not wake up. Garak rolled over so that his back was facing Julian, lest he be tempted to go further. Garak would have him, and he would make sure Julian was willing; he didn't know how he was going to accomplish that, but he'd find a way.


	2. Chapter 2

Garak had never slept with anyone. He'd fucked people – prostitutes, mostly – but they always left as soon as the deed was done. He'd never shared a bed, and he'd never particularly wanted to. There was no one he would trust to not slit his throat the moment he shut his eyes, and besides, the mechanics of it seemed uncomfortable. Wouldn't there be snoring and kicking and other unpleasantness to put up with? He couldn't imagine getting a good's night's rest with another person in his bed.

It turned out he was correct; he didn't get much sleep that night. Julian was a messy sleeper, hogging most of the bed with his tossing and turning. He snored – not heavily, but loud enough that it disturbed him. But what Garak hadn't anticipated were the pleasures that came from having someone in his bed. He hadn't realized how cold his bed was until he had Julian beside him. At one point, Julian threw an arm around Garak; it felt exquisitely warm. He considered cuddling up to him, but didn't want to risk waking him; instead, he held himself very still so as not to dislodge him. He drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he opened his eyes, he saw Julian there, and it filled him with a sense of well-being that he'd never felt before.

He got up at his usual time. Julian was still asleep; he was sleeping so soundly that Garak didn't have the heart to wake him. He went to the dining room and ordered a simple breakfast from the replicator for himself and Julian. He ate and sipped his tea while reading over some reports. By the time he finished, Julian still hadn't awoken, so Garak went back to the bedroom. Julian was sprawled out on his back, still snoring blissfully. Garak sat down on the edge of the bed. “Julian,” he said, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

Julian's eyes fluttered open. He stretched and yawned. “Hey you,” he said with a sleepy, flirtatious smile. Then he seemed to remember where he was, and his smile vanished. He sat up. “Oh. I'm sorry – I forgot where I was.”

Garak cleared his throat. “I have breakfast for you at the table.” He left the room. Julian tried to follow him, but fell on his face when he tried to step past the doorway. Garak realized that he'd forgotten about the restraint. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Julian said, sitting up. “But I think you may have forgotten something.”

“Of course – I'm sorry. Give me a moment.” Garak fetched the key and changed the limits on the restraint.

“I don't suppose there's any chance of you removing it altogether?”

“You suppose correctly,” Garak said. “Wouldn't you do the same in my place?”

“No.”

Garak gave him a curious look. “You really mean that, don't you?”

“Yes. There's nothing that builds trust as quickly as actually trusting the other person.”

“It isn't just a matter of trust; it's for your own protection as well. As long as you're wearing that, no one can drag you out of here.”

“Ah – that's something I hadn't thought of,” Julian said. “Is that likely to happen?”

“Perhaps. I'm not sure what the Intendant will do if she finds I've brought you here. She might find it amusing if she thinks I brought you here for...my own personal entertainment,” he said. For some reason, he was reluctant to spell out exactly what he meant.

“Why would she find that 'amusing?'”

“Because she knows that I disapprove of the pleasure slaves she keeps.” Which was true, but it wasn't out of concern for the Terrans' well-being – it was more because he found her decadence loathsome. He wasn't about to stop Julian from inferring otherwise, however. “But if she suspects our plans, then she'll most definitely try to take you away.”

“And have me executed.”

“I won't let that happen,” Garak said, more fervently than he had intended.

“Thank you,” Julian said, sounding a little surprised at his vehemence.

“Yes, well,” Garak said, trying to hide his embarrassment at his outburst. “With luck, it will take her some time to figure out that you're here.”

“Hopefully I'll be gone before she has the chance. No offense, but your universe is terrible.”

Garak laughed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed in honest amusement. “None taken. I'm not very fond of it myself.”

Julian sat down at the table and began to eat. When he took a sip of his tea, he paused. “This is Tarkalean tea,” he said.

“Would you prefer something else?”

Julian shook his head. “No. It's my favorite, actually.” He laughed a little. “I was drinking Tarkalean tea the day I met my Elim.”

“How did you meet?”

“He approached me while I was eating lunch one day. I didn't even realize he was flirting with me, although in retrospect he was laying it on rather thick. I used to be a little naïve.”

Garak decided he should let that comment pass without remark. “So you weren't lovers straight away.”

“Not right away, no. We were very good friends for a long time first.” Julian finished his tea and stared at the empty cup for a moment, lost in thought. “So,” he said, putting the cup down. “What's the plan?”

“I'll find your Kira and speak with her,” Garak said. “We'll plan from there.”

“I'd like to see her, too.”

“I'm not sure that's feasible. I can relay a message, if you'd like.”

“I can't really think of what to say, other than telling her that I'm all right and anxious to get the bloody hell out of here.” He thought for a moment. “Oh! I have it. Tell her that I look forward to listening to more music by Tor Jolan.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's what we were listening to before we arrived here. That way, she'll know that I'm truly all right and working with you.”

Garak was about to ask him what the logic behind that was when the door buzzer rang. They both froze for a moment.

“Get back into the bedroom and close the door,” Garak said, lowly and urgently. “Do not come out until I tell you.”

As soon as Julian was safe in the bedroom, Garak answered the door. His heart dropped – it was the Intendant.

“Garak!” she said cheerily. “How are you this lovely morning? Mind if I come in?” She brushed past him without waiting for an answer.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.

“Oh, I just thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing,” she said. “We work together all the time and we never really talk – you know, just as one friend to another.” She wandered over to the table and picked up Julian's teacup. “Hmmm. Breakfast for two? How interesting!”

Garak's heart was racing. “What do you want?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed rather than anxious.

“I heard a very interesting rumor about you,” she said. “A little bird told me that you rescued the Terran from the alternate universe and brought him back to your quarters. Is it true?”

Garak said nothing, but his eyes reflexively darted to the bedroom. Her smile widened, and before Garak could stop her, she opened the bedroom door. Julian was lying in bed, naked. His hair was mussed, his lips were swollen, and he was breathing heavily. In short, he looked like he'd just been fucked.

The Intendant laughed with delight. “I knew it!” she said. “When I saw the breakfast plates set our for two, I knew it had do be someone you forced here. I mean, who would ever willingly sleep with you?”

“I was willing,” Julian said.

She gave him a surprised look. Terrans rarely spoke to her unless she addressed them directly; it was one of Odo's rules of obedience. “Well, aren't you an enthusiastic little slut!” she said once she'd gotten over her surprise. “The other Nerys says that you're a doctor on your side – is that a euphemism for 'whore' over there?”

Not for the first time, Garak reflected on how good her head would look on a spike. Julian's eyes flashed with fury, but her didn't lose his temper. “No,” he said. “I am a medical doctor, and a man of science. I decided it would be an interesting experiment to see if this Elim is as fantastic in bed as the one in my universe.”

“And is he?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.”

Rather than being angry, the Intendant seemed to be delighted by his insolence. She gave Garak a smile. "Why, _Elim_ ," she said with a laugh. "I didn't know you had it in you! I always figured you for a eunuch." She turned back to Julian. “So what's your Elim like? Is he an incompetently ambitious bore like mine is?"

“He's a tailor, actually,” Julian said.

The Intendant started laughing. “A _tailor_? You have to be kidding me.”

“No, and it's too bad for you that he isn't in this universe as well – maybe he could help you sort out whatever this is supposed to be,” he said, gesturing to her outfit.

The Intendant looked down at herself. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

“It looks like you fell in an Angolian tar pit and forgot to dry off.”

There was a stunned moment of silence. Several years ago, Garak had witnessed a shuttlecraft accident. The navigational instruments had gone offline as well as communications, rendering the ship effectively blind. There was nothing anyone could do except watch as the craft sputtered spastically around the station before finally crashing, killing everyone on board. Garak had a similar feeling now. He held his breath as he waited for the Intendant to respond.

She blinked, as if she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Then she started to laugh. She laughed so hard that she nearly doubled over, clutching her stomach as tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks. “Oh _my_ ,” she said after her laughter died down. “I haven't laughed that hard in ages. You are an absolute treasure. I'm so glad Odo didn't beat you to death. Oh!” she said, thinking of something. “I'm having a party tonight to welcome my Nerys to the station. You should come! You, too, I suppose,” she said to Garak with less enthusiasm. “The festivities start at 2000 hours– don't be late.” She started to leave, but turned back and gave Julian a thoughtful look. “You're going to need something to wear. Hmm. I'll have to think on it.”

After the Intendant had left, Garak turned to Julian. “Are you out of your mind?! What were you thinking, speaking to her like that?”

“You said it yourself – she wasn't going to let you keep me unless it amused her to do so. I was making myself amusing. She strikes me as someone who's used to having her boots licked and has gotten bored with it.”

“She's going to tire of that very quickly,” Garak pointed out.

“But I'll be gone before then – that's the plan, isn't it?” Julian said. “And besides, you said you weren't going to let her execute me.”

Garak felt touched that Julian had that much faith in him. “I take that to mean you've agreed to help me?”

“I'll help you depose her,” Julian said. “But I'd like to find a way to do it without killing her.”

“You still don't want her dead, even after what she said to you?”

“I'm not about to condemn a woman to death just because she called me a slut,” Julian said. “Although it certainly didn't help her case any.”

Garak laughed; he couldn't help it. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“You just baited a woman who could have you killed, and now you're joking about it.”

Julian grinned. “I've always been resilient.” He shook his head. “It's eerie talking to her. She's identical in appearance to the Kira I know, but she couldn't be more different otherwise.”

“What's she like?”

“She's noble,” Julian said. “And very brave. In our universe, the Bajorans were enslaved by the Cardassians the same way the Terrans are enslaved here. She fought for their liberation and was willing to sacrifice herself if it meant that her people would some day be free. She's also a bit on the serious side – I think I've heard your Intendant laugh more times than I've heard her.”

“Are you two good friends?”

“Yes,” Julian said, but then amended, “Well, friendly colleagues, at least. She's not going to be any more enthusiastic about your murder plot than I am, you know.”

“I thought you said she fought for freedom. Were they all bloodless battles?”

“No, but there's a difference between fighting to defend yourself and premeditated murder.”

“I doubt the person killed would appreciate the distinction.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “You have at least one thing in common with my Elim – a love of semantics.” He gave him an imploring look. “Surely we can think of some way to do this without killing anyone?”

Garak sighed. Damn those eyes. “I suppose I could give your Kira a hypospray of tranquillizers,” Garak said. “That would allow her to make the switch.”

“I think that's an excellent idea,” Julian said with a smile. He stood up; he hadn't been completely naked after all, since he was still wearing his trousers. Garak tried not to be disappointed. After Julian put his shirt back on, they walked out to the dining area. Julian sat down to finish his breakfast, but Garak remained standing.

“I must go now,” he said with reluctance.

“I don't know what I'm going to do with myself while you're gone,” Julian said. “Just sitting around is going to drive me batty.”

“I'll try not to be gone too long. At the very least, I need to check to be sure they've patched up the thorium containment cells.” After a moment's thought, Garak fetched a padd from his desk and pushed a few buttons. He handed it to Julian. “Perhaps you would find it diverting to read about our history while I'm away.”

“That does sound interesting, actually,” Julian said. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Garak said. “Before I go, would you like me to replicate you something for lunch?”

“Or you could adjust my restraint so that I could reach the replicator.”

“Have you ever had hasperat?” Garak said, ignoring Julian's comment as he went to the replicator. “It's quite spicy, but I've always enjoyed it. Mapa fruit is also tasty – the replicated version doesn't do it justice, but it's still delicious.”

Julian sighed, but chose not to argue the point. “That would be fine.” Garak replicated the food and put it on the table.

After Garak changed into his uniform, he left for the ore processing center. He contacted Telok and had him send one of his men to guard his quarters, and another one to trail the other Kira. She had already been summoned to the Intendant's quarters; it would probably be some time before he would be able to speak to her.

When he arrived at the processing center, he was confronted by Odo. “Good morning, sir,” he said. “I trust you had an _enjoyable_ night?” The bastard had a smug look on his face; he must have been the one who told the Intendant.

“Very,” Garak said lightly; he couldn't let him see that it bothered him that anyone knew. “How are we doing on the thorium containment cell problem?”

“It's under control. I have my best Terran working on it.”

Garak looked over at the broken machine and saw the blond Terran on his knees in front of it, tools in hand. Sisko had finished with him, apparently. “Good,” Garak said. “I'll be in my office if you need me.”

“By the way,” Odo said. “I spoke with the Intendant about the efficiency of this station; she says that we're producing more ore than we ever have before. You must have made an error in your calculations. Sir.” He was smirking again. Garak ignored him; he wasn't about to let the slimy son of a bitch get a rise out of him.

He was able to deal with his ordinary duties fairly swiftly. Now all he had to do was wait until the Intendant was through with the Major. He idly patrolled the processing center; normally, he would hope that a Terran would step out of line so that he could amuse himself with an interrogation, but today wanted things to remain quiet. He had other things on his mind.

He hoped that the other Kira cooperated. From what Julian had told him of her, he knew that she was probably horrified by the conditions of the station. The enslavement of her people was something that Garak might be able to use to persuade her to his side. Once she agreed to aid him, they would have to act swiftly, so as not to give the Intendant time to sniff out their plans. He still thought killing the Intendant would be the easiest way, but if the other Kira would be more swayed by a non-lethal approach, that was what he should propose to her.

He'd tell her to drug the Intendant and switch their clothes. She could then call the guards and tell them to throw the unconscious Intendant in the brig. However, the drugs would wear off eventually. Once she woke up, there would be little doubt as to who the real Intendant was. He supposed he could always have her “accidentally” killed once the other Kira had taken her place. Or maybe he could cut out her tongue. He smiled to himself; that would be both satisfying and in keeping with his promise to Julian.

It would probably be best to wait a few weeks before he had her appoint him the new Intendant. The thought of the strange double from another universe would be less fresh in people's minds, making them less likely to guess the truth. It would also give him time to think of a plan to make Julian his. Yes, he was going to keep him. At some point between the previous night and that morning, Julian had transformed from an indulgence to a necessity. It was as if he'd spent his whole life subsisting on bread alone and had finally gotten a taste of a real, meaty meal. When he was a lonely, needy child, he'd made a promise to himself that once he was grown, he would never deny himself of anything he wanted that was in his power to take. He wanted Julian; therefore, he would have him.

The tricky part of it was that what he wanted couldn't simply be taken. He needed Julian to be willing, and that was going to take some finesse. While the other Kira posed as the Intendant, Garak would spend as much time as he could with Julian, building a rapport between them. When it came time for the scepter of power to be passed to him, he would follow through with his promise to help Julian and the other Kira escape. Alas, there would be a terrible confusion – the fleeing spacecraft would detected and identified as a vessel full of escaping Terrans; they would be fired upon. Garak would “discover” the error in the nick of time. He'd beam aboard the shuttle in time to save Julian, but not Kira. Perhaps Garak would be hurt in the process – not too badly, of course, but enough that he would require some tender nursing from the doctor.

They would learn that that had been Julian's last chance at returning to his universe; the rift that had brought him here had collapse, or disappeared, or was somehow plausibly made unavailable. Julian would be all alone expect for Garak, with nowhere to go except into his arms. He would be miserable at first, but in time he'd adjust. He'd probably never be happy in this godforsaken place – who could be? – but Garak had greater ambitions than control of a minor ore-processing station. Within a year or two of being Intendant, he could launch himself into a better position in the military, and he would keep reaching higher and higher until he could live life exactly as he pleased. He would buy a house on Bajor, where only the wealthiest members of the Cardassian military could afford to live, and he would give Julian anything he wanted, and Garak would be happy at last.

Garak came back to himself. It was a pleasant dream, but he couldn't afford to lose himself in it. There was too much yet to be done. He checked in with Telok to see if the Intendant had released her double yet; she hadn't. Frustrated, he tried to think of some way to occupy his time while he waited. He decided to try to think of ways to make Julian more comfortable and to strengthen their bond. Perhaps there was something nice he could get for him, but he was sure what that would be. He saw the blond Terran who was working on the machine and was struck with an idea.

He approached the Terran. “And how are things going here?” he asked.

The Terran put his tools down and stood up, keeping his gaze respectfully downcast. “I should be finished in another hour, sir.”

“Good, good,” Garak said. “I've noticed your work before. You always do your job admirably.”

The Terran seemed to not know how to respond. Garak couldn't really blame him; it wasn't as if he made it a habit of complimenting Terrans. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

“What's your name?”

“My designation is Theta 37594.”

“No, your given name.”

The Terran paused. “Miles O'Brien,” he said quietly.

“Did you ever live on the Terran home world, or have you always worked in space stations?”

“I was born on Earth, sir.”

“Tell me – if you could have any Terran food right at this moment, what would it be?”

The Terran's gaze flickered upward. “I'm sorry, sir?”

“Answer the question,” he said tersely, but then amended, “It's not a trick; I'm merely curious.”

“Chocolate,” the Terran said after a moment.

“What sort of food is that?”

“It's a candy.”

“Is that available in the replicator menu?”

“I don't think so, but I saw some in Sisko's ship yesterday. He wouldn't let me have any,” he added sullenly.

“Does he now.” Garak tapped his badge. “Garak to Telok.”

“Here, sir.”

“Send a few of your officers to meet me in docking. I'm going to have to confiscate a few items from Sisko's ship.”

“Right away, sir.”

Garak turned back to the Terran. “You've been very helpful. I'll let your supervisor know.”

He arrived in docking at the same time as the Klingon officers. He was hoping that Sisko and his crew would be elsewhere, but no, they were there on the ship. Sisko was there at the door to greet them. “Gul Garak,” Sisko said, his teeth exposed in an expression that looked similar to a smile. “What can I do for you?”

Garak hesitated for the briefest of moments. He would never admit it, but Sisko frightened him. The other Terrans were so beat down that he rarely had to worry about them fighting back. Sisko was different; part of it was that he knew he had the Intendant's favor and could afford to be insolent, but even more than that, Garak had the feeling that Sisko didn't particularly care what happened to him. A creature who had no fear was a dangerous, unpredictable thing.

“I've had reports that you have non-replicated food items on your ship. That's against regulations, you know.”

“I've never heard of any regulation like that,” Sisko said.

“They could be contaminated, and we wouldn't want the station crawling with pests now, would we?” Garak gave him a smile of his own. “Take your men and leave for a few hours. I'm sure Quark would be thrilled to host you.”

Sisko's expression shifted into something darker. He began to move forward very slowly; Garak wanted to hold his ground, but the Terran kept getting closer and closer until Garak could feel his breath on his face. Suddenly, he surged forward with a snarl as if to bite him. Garak let out a startled shout and stumbled backward.

Sisko laughed. “Of course, Gul. Anything you say.” He called out to his men and they filed out of the ship. Most of them had seen what had happened and were laughing, too. “Please, let me know if I can be of any further assistance,” Sisko said when the last of them were gone.

“I can't wait until the Intendant tires of you,” Garak said.

Sisko's teeth gleamed in the low light. “Likewise,” he said. He laughed again, and then he was gone.

Garak and the officers cleared through the messy contents of the ship, seizing anything that looked edible. He found several boxes filled with pieces of small brown food. He tasted one; it was very sweet. This must be the chocolate. He also found a few bottles of something that looked alcoholic. He had the Klingon officers dispose of everything except the boxes of candy and the bottles, which he took back to his office. He replicated a basket and arranged the items inside it, feeling very pleased with himself.

Just as he had finished, he received a message from Telok that the other Kira was finally on her way back to her quarters. He hastily made his way there, hoping to reach the room before she did. He made it just in time; five minutes after he entered the room, the other Kira appeared in the doorway, a purple gown draped over her arm.

“Lovely,” Garak said. “I do admire a well-tailored gown.”

She threw the gown aside with a look of disgust. “What the hell are you doing in my quarters, Garak?”

Garak couldn't help but stare at her for a moment. She looked _exactly_ like the Intendant; he'd been expecting that, of course, but it was still eeire. After he got over his surprise, however, he realized that there was some variance. She held herself differently. The Intendant had the relaxed posture of someone who knew she was in total control; she always looked like she was ready to drape herself over something. This Kira stood straight; she was proud, but also guarded and ready to defend herself. Like Julian, she had dignity, but hers seemed hard-earned. Garak raised his arms as if in surrender. “My goodness, aren't we touchy. I merely stopped by so that we could have a chat – in private.”

“What have you done with Dr. Bashir?”

“Nothing, I assure you.”

“That's not what the Intendant tells me.”

“The Intendant has seen only what we wished her to see. I assure you, the doctor is quite safe with me. In fact, he and I have an agreement, and we were hoping that you would be interested in assisting us as well.”

“How do I know you're telling the truth?”

“He said to tell you he looks forward to listening to more music by Tor Jolan.”

She gave him a confused look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“He said that if I told you that, then you would know that he was working with me willingly.”

“That definitely sounds like Bashir,” she said with a sigh and a grim smile. “All right, I'll bite. What kind of agreement?”

“You'd like to leave this station, yes?”

She nodded warily.

“There are things that I want as well. I think we can all help each other.”

“I'm listening,” she said.

“The Intendant, as you have no doubt surmised, is unstable. It would be in the best interests of this station and everyone on it if she were no longer in power. Resigning her post is not something she would ever do willingly. However, taking the position by force is also problematic – it would be very politically inconvenient for the Cardassians to annoy the Bajorans by forcibly taking control of this station. However, if she were to step down voluntarily...”

“You want me to convince her to do that?”

“No. I want you to take her place.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It's the only way,” Garak said.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

Garak gave her the hypospray. “I've loaded this with a powerful tranquilizer. Administer it to her when the two of you are alone. Once she's out, exchange her clothing for yours, and call the guards. Tell them that she's displeased you and have her thrown in the brig.”

“But when she wakes up, she'll tell them that she's the Intendant. I don't see why they would believe me over her.”

“That won't be a problem,” Garak said.

“Why not? Are you going to have her tongue cut out?” she said sarcastically. When Garak didn't respond, she gave him a horrified look. “You are, aren't you?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I do, actually – how about I find another way of getting us out of here and leave you to do your own dirty work?”

Garak decided it was time to make an appeal to her noble nature. “I've been told that in your universe, the Bajorans were subjugated to the same treatment as the Terrans are here. I was also told that you fought for their freedom. You've seen how this station is run. You see how she treats the Terrans. Even beyond saving yourself, isn't it your moral obligation to do something? You of all people should know that tyrants can't be reasoned with”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I know about tyrants. I also know about the petty subordinates who nip at their heels. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you have any interest in helping these people. How do I know things would be any better with you in charge?”

“I suppose you don't. But there is one difference between myself and the Intendant that I can assure you of – I will let you go. She won't.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she's in love with you.” Kira gave him an incredulous look. “It's true,” Garak said. “You are her fondest dream come true – the image in her mirror made flesh and blood. Do you know what she calls you? 'My Nerys.' Perhaps a better person would be able to let go of her dream for the sake of her true love's happiness, but she is not a good person. She will be good to you, I'm sure – like a little girl taking care of her favorite dolly. But I doubt that's a life you'd like to lead; just ask Benjamin Sisko if he enjoys being her toy.”

Kira looked ill. Garak suppressed a triumphant smirk – he knew he had her. She gave him a level look. “Let's get something straight – I don't like you in my universe and I sure as hell don't like you in this one. Helping you goes against every instinct I have.”

“But help me you must, if you ever want to leave.”

She sat down on the sofa and put her hands to her face for a moment. “If I agreed to this – once I took her place, what would you want me to do?”

“After a sufficient amount of time has passed – a few weeks, perhaps – you will announce that you're stepping down to embark on a spiritual quest, to explore your Pah or whatever. You will name me as your successor.”

“And then you'll help me and Dr. Bashir return to our side.” Garak nodded. “I need time to think about it,” she said.

“Of course,” Garak said. “Find me when you've made up your mind.” He turned as if to leave, but stopped at the doorway. “Oh, and don't worry about Julian. I'll keep him very safe. However, if you should decide to decline my offer – well, I would prefer to have control of this station, but if I can't have that, he will make a lovely consolation prize.”

“You son of a bitch,” she snarled.

Garak smiled. “I'll give him your regards.” He left the room.

That had not gone as well as he had hoped. Apparently Julian's naiveté was a charm uniquely his own and not something endemic in the other universe. However, he was sure she would agree to his plan eventually; a few more days with the Intendant would erase any doubt from her mind. He was going to have to keep her from communicating with Julian, though – he couldn't imagine that Julian would react well if he heard how their conversation had really gone.

Annoyingly, some minor problems occurred which required his attention. He dealt with them as quickly as possible, but he was still laid up until close to dinner time. He and Julian would only have an hour before the Intendant's party. He gathered his basket and set off for his quarters, trying to ignore the hopeful flutter of his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to Garak's quarters was a long one; the corridors seemed to have gotten longer since that morning. He moved as quickly as he could without appearing to be in a hurry, but he paused before he made the turn down the last corridor. He didn't want to appear as if any of this meant a great deal to him. He had to be casual. When he felt properly composed, he made that last turn. There was a Klingon diligently standing guard in front of his door, just as he'd instructed. After questioning him and determining that there had been no trouble, Garak dismissed him and entered his quarters. 

Julian was sitting at the table, reading the padd Garak had given him. His chin was propped up in one hand. One finger was curled along the side of his face, seeming to point to a faint bruise on his temple that Garak must have missed when he had healed him. He looked up and smiled. “Oh good, you're back,” he said, putting aside his padd. “I thought I was going to lose my mind waiting for you.”

Waiting, for him. Garak felt a twinge in his chest. He regarded Julian for a moment. Every feature seemed even more lovely than he had remembered – his golden skin, his dark hair, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips...how had Garak ever considered his looks unremarkable? It baffled him that he'd been so blind. 

“So how did it go?” Julian asked. 

It took Garak a moment to remember what he was referring to; the whole ugly business with the Intendant and her double and Garak's various schemes seemed far away. “She's reluctant,” he said. “I don't think she trusts me.”

“If only I could talk to her,” Julian said. “I know I'd be able to convince her to agree to it.” 

“The Intendant has her under constant surveillance,” Garak said. “I was able to steal a moment with her, but smuggling you in to see her would be too risky. Don't worry. I'm sure she'll come around.”

Julian didn't look too happy, but seemed to acquiesce. “What's in the basket?”

“See for yourself,” Garak said, handing it to him.

Julian set it on the table and opened it. He took out the bottle of wine and some of the candies. “Is this chocolate?” 

“Yes. I thought you might appreciate something familiar.”

“What, no flowers?” he said. 

Garak cocked his head in puzzlement. “Is that something you traditionally eat with chocolates?”

Julian started laughing. “Oh – no, I'm sorry,” he said. “It was a bad attempt at a joke. In some Human cultures, giving someone chocolates and flowers is a romantic gesture. The flowers are just for decoration, however.” 

Garak wasn't quite sure how to react. The fact that he'd accidentally already made a romantic gesture threw his plans off balance. The gift was supposed to have the effect of making Julian feel more warmly toward him, but he hadn't wanted to tip his hat this early about his intentions. Of course, he hadn't known about the romantic connotation of the chocolates, and Julian knew that he hadn't known, but now Garak was standing there, awkward and silent; Julian must be picking up on his discomfort, and from _that_ he'd be able to infer Garak's feelings toward him...

And Julian was, in fact, giving him a curious look. “I've embarrassed you, haven't I?” Julian said. “I'm sorry – I have a knack for ruining things. It was a nice gesture – thank you.” He smiled. It was very disarming – Julian in _general_ was disarming, capable of stripping away his hard-earned defenses with only a look. 

“Dinner,” Garak mumbled, turning to the replicator. “We should have dinner.” 

Julian sat down at the table while Garak replicated their meal. They began eating in silence. Julian was still giving him that curious look; it was making Garak nervous. Had he figured it out? What would he say if Julian confronted him? Finally, Julian opened his mouth to say something. Garak tensed.

“Did you solve the thorium containment problem?” Julian asked. 

“Yes,” he said, relieved to have something neutral to talk about. “There's a Terran who's very good at solving technical problems; he was able to fix it.”

“Is his name by any chance Miles O'Brien?”

“Yes, it is,” Garak said, surprised. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess. The Miles O'Brien on my side is a genius at that sort of thing, too. What else is he like - his personality, I mean?”

“He's very obedient. Keeps his head down and does what he's asked.”

“Well, that's not quite the same. My Miles follows orders, but I don't think I'd ever call him 'obedient,' and he certainly doesn't keep his head down. He's chief of operations; he's also my best friend.” A grim look crossed his face. “And here he's a slave.” Julian rubbed his face and let out a sigh. “It should probably be the last thing on my mind, but I can't help but be intrigued by the differences and similarities between our universes. It's like a natural experiment in the role that environment plays in the development of personality. The people here seem genetically identical to their doubles in my universe, but the Human, Vulcan and Bajoran cultures are vastly different. That would explain the personality differences of the people of those races. However, from what I've read about the Klingon and Cardassian cultures, they seem to be similar to ours...” 

He trailed off and gave Garak a sideways look. The possible implications of his last statement were not lost on Garak – did that mean that he and his double were more similar than they were different? Garak was hoping he would continue along those lines, but it appeared that Julian was reluctant to discuss it. Instead, he said, “I'm almost afraid to ask about my other friends. I'm sure none of them have fared much better.” 

“Maybe I know some of them,” Garak said. “What are their names?”

“Have you heard of anyone named Jadzia Dax? Or Leeta?” 

Garak shook his head. 

“How about Benjamin Sisko?”

“That name is unfortunately familiar,” Garak said. “He's the leader of a crew of Terran pirates. He works for the Intendant, collecting 'duties' from passing ships.” 

“A _pirate_?” Julian said. “Well, I suppose the fact that he's in command fits with his double on my side.”

“What does he do in your universe?”

“He's the commanding officer of this station.” At Garak skeptical scoff, Julian added, “I take it he's not the inspiring, vaguely paternal man that I know?”

“He's a savage, unstable brute with a sadistic streak.”

“Ah. I'll file him alongside Kira and Odo in the 'polar opposite personality' category, then.”

“If he's the commanding officer, does that mean the Terrans control this station?” Garak asked.

“Sort of. The station was originally created by the Cardassians as an ore-processing center, like it is in this universe. As I mentioned earlier, the Cardassians had enslaved the Bajorans and forced them to do the work that the Terrans do here. The Bajorans managed to drive the Cardassians out, and once they were gone, they petitioned the Federation – er, that's the United Federation of Planets – for membership. The Federation agreed to come help sort things out with the station, but it belongs to Bajor.”

“And this Federation – that's your universe's Terran Empire?”

“No – the Terrans were one of the founding races of the Federation, but it's not _ours_ , and it certainly isn't an 'empire.' Planets join willingly, and it's all democratic.”

“And this station is not used as an ore-processing center anymore?”

“No. Shortly after the Federation arrived, a stable wormhole was discovered in Bajor's system.”

“A stable wormhole?” 

“Yes – it connects us to the Gamma Quadrant. I'm sure I don't have to explain the enormity of that discovery. The station was moved to orbit the wormhole, and now it's a nexus of trade and cultural exchange – a very exciting place to be stationed. ”

“You're a doctor with the Federation's military, then.” Julian nodded. “How interesting that a peaceful, democratic organization should need a military.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “It's called Starfleet, and it's not a military in the sense you're thinking. Our main objective is exploration, but yes, we are called upon to defend the Federation when needed.”

“From the Cardassians.”

“Sometimes.”

“Were you conscripted into service, or was it your choice?”

“Starfleet doesn't conscript people; it was my choice.”

“Why?”

“I always wanted to see the galaxy. I had some romantic notions about life on the frontier, most of which have been squashed rather thoroughly,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “What about you? Was it your choice to be in the military?”

“No. All Cardassian citizens are required to serve some time in the military. I suppose I could have left after I'd put in my time, but there was nothing for me in civilian life. And at least I don't have to live on Cardassia.”

“How ironic,” Julian said. “There's nothing my Elim would like more than to return to Cardassia.”

“Why? It's a complete shithole.”

Julian burst out laughing. 

“I suppose you're going to tell me that in your universe, Cardassia is a paradise.”

Julian shook his head, still laughing. “No. But my Elim is very attached to it – it's very disconcerting to hear disparaging remarks about Cardassia come from any Elim Garak, alternate dimension or not. I'm not sure he'll believe me when I tell him.”

And there was the other Elim again. Julian had seemed reluctant to address the subject directly, but Garak was dying to know. “So,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Your Elim – how would you describe his opposite?” 

The indirect tactic worked; Julian seemed amused at the question. He thought for a moment. “He'd be an uncomplicated man – a little literal minded, with a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve. He'd be someone content to live in the present, without obsessing over wrongs done in the past, or ways to shape the future.”

“If that's true, then I'm afraid your hypothesis of Cardassians being similar in both universes is incorrect,” Garak said, his tone ironic. “That describes me perfectly – just plain, simple Garak.” 

Julian stared at him. “Now that's just _eerie_ ,” he said, but he seemed pleased. It had apparently been the right thing to say. 

“Is he really a tailor?” Garak asked. 

“You sound so disappointed!” Julian said with the hint of a grin. “There's nothing wrong with being a tailor, you know.”

“I never said there was. It's just a bit – surprising.”

“Well,” Julian said. “He's also a spy.”

“Now that's a bit more exciting. Is that what got him exiled from Cardassia?”

“No - he was a spy for Cardassia, not against it. I don't really know what got him exiled.”

“He won't tell you?”

“He's told me several possible scenarios, all of them wildly contradictory. The truth's in there somewhere, I'm sure, but I haven't figured it out yet.”

“He lies to you?” he asked, surprised. “And you stand for it?”

Julian gave him a sheepish look. “I know that must sound terrible, but I promise it isn't. His status as an exiled spy is an open secret on the station – everyone talks about it, but he refuses to confirm anything. As we became friends, I'd try to suss out exactly what had happened in his past. He'd give me little clues, I'd make guesses – it became a game of sorts.”

“But now that you're more than friends, he still won't tell you? Doesn't he trust you?” 

The question seemed to catch Julian off guard. “He trusts me in his own way,” he said eventually, but he didn't sound sure of himself. 

Garak was secretly pleased to hear that Julian's relationship with the other Elim had some weaknesses. “Does it bother you that he keeps secrets?”

“Well – yes, if I'm being completely honest, but I'm willing to put up with it for now. I knew that he had issues with trust before I became involved with him.” He added under his breath, “An issue that seems to transcend universes.”

Garak considered him for a moment. He stood up and walked around the table, then knelt in front of Julian's chair. He lifted Julian's foot from the floor. After fishing the key out of his pocket, he unlocked the restraint. He looked up until he met Julian's gaze. “You should still wear it when I'm gone,” he said. “But when we're together, I don't think it's necessary.”

“Oh,” Julian said, taken aback. “Thank you.” 

Garak realized that he had absently started to caress his foot; he let it go hastily. Julian was giving him that curious look again. He seemed about to say something when the buzzer on the door rang. Their heads both turned to the door. Garak rose to his feet. “Get in the bedroom and wait for me there,” he said. 

Garak made his way to the living area and answered the door. It was one of Kira's Vulcan slaves, holding a rectangular box. “A gift for your Terran,” he said, bowing slightly. Garak accepted the box and dismissed him with a curt nod. He hated interacting with Vulcans; their stony demeanor unnerved him. The Vulcan bowed again and left. 

“What is it?”

Garak spun around and saw that Julian had followed him. He was slightly annoyed that Julian had ignored his order to stay in the bedroom, but he brushed it aside. “A gift for you from the Intendant, apparently.” 

“That sounds rather ominous,” Julian said. He sat down on the sofa. “Well, bring it over here and let's have a look.”

Garak handed the box to Julian and sat down beside him. Julian opened the lid. Inside, there was a pair of silken gold trousers and a pair of sandals. As Julian pulled the trousers out of the box, a card fluttered to the floor. Garak picked it up and read it. “It says this is your outfit for the party.”

“But where's the rest of – ” he started to ask, but stopped when realization dawned on him. “Oh. Right.” 

The humiliated look on Julian's face at that moment filled Garak with a cold fury, which is of course the effect the Intendant had wanted. Garak took the trousers and stuffed them back in the box. “Forget it. You're not going.”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Won't that cause trouble?”

“I don't care,” he said fiercely. “This is another one of her games, designed to humiliate and degrade us both, and I won't play it!” He threw the box to the floor.

Julian said nothing for a moment while Garak seethed. When Garak had calmed down, Julian said, “Have you considered that your refusal might be the response she's looking for? That she's just looking for an excuse to make your life miserable?” 

Damn him, he was right. There was no way out of it – no matter what reaction he gave, he was a pawn in her games, and would be until either she was dead or he was. “All right,” he said at last. “We'll both go.”

Julian gave him an encouraging smile. “She can only embarrass us if we let her, you know. And I, for one, refuse to give her the satisfaction.” He picked up the box and disappeared into the bedroom. 

Garak cleaned up their dinner dishes while Julian changed. He had his back to the bedroom when he heard Julian return. He turned – and the sight took his breath away. The golden trousers hung loosely from his hips, and every movement he made caused the fabric to contour briefly to his skin, creating tantalizing outlines of his body that would disappear the moment he moved again. And his bare chest, so taut and toned... 

Garak knew he was staring; he couldn't help it. Julian started to cross his arms over his chest but stopped himself. “How do I look?” he asked with sarcastic flourish, but quickly added, “Never mind, I don't want to know. Let's just get this over with.” He marched towards the front door; Garak followed him. 

Julian was about to step outside when Garak stopped him with a touch to his arm. “You should walk behind me,” he said almost apologetically. 

Julian looked confused for a moment. “Oh. Because I'm your slave.”

Garak nodded. He also didn't think he could watch the way those trousers hung off of Julian's ass without being driven mad with lust, but didn't add that. 

“I suppose I'm just not naturally submissive - which is going to make this a rather interesting night.” Julian sighed. “You know, if I had known that I'd someday end up masquerading as a sex slave in an alternate dimension, I might not have been so keen on working on the frontier.” 

“It shouldn't be that difficult,” Garak said. “Just keep your head down and don't speak.”

Julian laughed a little. “Two things that I'm terrible at. I'll try my best.” Julian stepped away from the door. “After you, then.” 

And with that, they were on their way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is heavy on the slavery, and contains a (brief) sexual assault.

The party was being held in the bar run by the Ferengi, Quark. It was still relatively uncrowded when the arrived. Terran servants milled around, setting up tables of food and drink and putting the final touches on some garish decorations. A Bajoran musician was playing the flute in one corner. A few of the Intendant's Bajoran lackeys were there, as well as some of the lower-ranking Klingon officers. Telok, Garak's Klingon ally, and the officers who pledged their loyalty to him had not arrived yet. This didn't surprise him; Telok did not approve of frivolity and decadence, which was part of the reason he hated the Intendant as much as he did. Garak was sure he'd see him later in the evening, however; as a high ranking officer, he would be expected to make an appearance.

Garak headed for an empty table towards the back of the room; he resisted the urge to look back to see if Julian was following him. A real master assumed obedience. He sat down; Julian went to sit down as well, but Garak shook his head. “Bring me something to drink,” he told him. “From the bar. Ask the Ferengi; he knows what I like.” 

“Your wish is my command, master,” Julian said with flourish and the hint of a smile. 

“A simple 'yes, sir' will suffice,” Garak said as severely as he could manage. Julian shouldn't be treating this like a game; the stakes were too high. Still, he couldn't help but smile a little in return. Perhaps they would get through this after all.

When Julian got to the bar, Quark was busy giving orders to his serving girls; it looked as though he would have to wait. More people began to stream in through the doors, but not the Intendant or her double. Garak imagined that she would wait to make a grand entrance. 

He was hoping to be left alone for at least a little while, but unfortunately, Glinn Dukat came through the front door and immediately spotted him. He was the only other Cardassian officer on the station; the Intendant hated Cardassians, but an Alliance treaty required that she keep at least two Cardassian officers in her ranks. Dukat was new, having arrived a few months ago to replace the previous glinn, who had suffered a nervous breakdown. Garak couldn't stand the man, which was probably why the Intendant had selected him. He was fairly certain the feeling was mutual, but Dukat still attempted to get in his good graces.

“Gul Garak!” he said, clapping him on the back. “May I?” He sat down beside him without waiting for a response. “It's good to see you. I feel like we never really get the chance to talk.” 

“If you spent more time attending to your duties and less time at the Dabo wheel, perhaps we would run into each other more often,” Garak said.

Dukat's smile froze on his face. Normally, Garak would be savoring his discomfort, but half of his attention was on the other side of the room. Julian was still waiting to speak to Quark. “That's not entirely fair, sir,” Dukat said. "I've been very diligent about my duties. I haven't even been to Quark's in a month - can't really afford it on my salary, what with the way they've been squeezing us lately."

Garak didn't really want to discuss his finances with the glinn, but he was sympathetic. With every year, the Cardassian military cut their salaries further and further. Entering into the Alliance was supposed to have brought their planet greater prosperity, but it hadn't worked out that way.

“So,” Dukat said, trying for conversation again. Garak had hoped his disparaging remark would have scared Dukat off before Julian returned, but Dukat seemed determined to stay and annoy him. “Another party. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it? We slave away for these Bajorans for a pittance while they wallow in luxury. Ah well, I suppose I shouldn't complain – the kanar is always free.”

Garak made a non-committal grunt in response. Dukat appeared at a loss as to how to further the conversation until Sisko and his Terran crew walked through the door. “The Intendant's pet Terran and his crew,” Dukat said, shaking his head in disgust. “I shouldn't be surprised that they're here, but somehow I am. Why she grants him so much freedom is beyond me.”

On the other side of the room, Julian was finally speaking to Quark. Quark gave him a tray and a glass, but was distracted by Sisko's men before he could give Julian the kanar. “Yes, they are highly annoying,” Garak said with feeling.

Dukat seemed pleased to have stumbled upon a conversation Garak was willing to engage in. “Of course, I myself am not immune to the charms of a good-looking Terran, but she lets him and his people run about as if they're our equals. I think it sends a very confusing message to the other Terrans. That makes our jobs more difficult, doesn't it?”

“Are you having trouble performing your duties?”

“What? Oh, no, no – not at all!” Dukat said, scrambling. “The Terrans of my section are always well-behaved. I don't have any trouble. And when I do, I simply have to mention your name, and the trouble is resolved right away. You have an amazing talent for keeping them in line – it truly is an honor working under you. I know your last glinn wasn't able to take the pressure, but I want to assure you that I fully understand that this kind of work involves embracing some...unpleasantness when dealing with discipline. You can depend on me.”

 _Unpleasantness_. That was one way to put it. Garak watched the Terran servants scurry around the room. This station was the end of the line for most Terrans. Most were here because they'd caused trouble for their previous masters. A few simply had the misfortune of belonging to masters who were bad with their finances and had to sell them to pay off debts. Regardless of how they came to be here, most didn't live more than five or ten years. And Garak was a part of that. One of the main parts of that, if he was being honest with himself. It had never bothered him before. 

Before he had too long to reflect on that, Julian started to make his way back across the room. When he got to the table, he shot Dukat a surprised look before casting his gaze downward. He put the tray on the table.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Dukat said, but frowned when he noticed only one glass. “You – boy,” he said, addressing Julian. “Fetch another glass. And tell Quark to send Katy over.”

Julian shot Garak a questioning look; Garak nodded his assent. He left for the bar again. 

“So have you met the guest of honor – this mysterious woman from another universe?”

Garak nodded. 

“Eerie, isn't it? I only got a look at her, but the resemblance really is uncanny. Is she at all like the Intendant?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

Julian returned with a tray of glasses and food. He was accompanied by the Terran slave woman Dukat had requested, a curvaceous blonde in a low-cut black dress. All the women Quark kept were lovely to look at, but he'd never been with any of them. It was a moot point to begin with since he wasn't interested in women, but even if he had been, he would not seek out their services. There was something disquieting about them. Of all the Terrans on the station, they probably had the easiest life in certain respects. There was no hard labor. They always had enough to eat. Quark seemed to treat them kindly, even if some of their patrons did not. But in spite of that, the fact that they smiled and flirted even though they were as dead inside as the others unnerved Garak. Sleeping with one of them was about as attractive as sleeping with a corpse. 

“Katy!” Dukat said, opening his arms. “A vision of loveliness, as always.” He patted his lap. “Come, sit.” The woman complied, placing an arm around his shoulder. “Have you missed me?”

“I've missed your wages,” she said, teasing. Or at least, it was a good approximation of teasing; there was no real affection there. 

He laughed. “That's why I like you best – you're an honest whore.” He kissed her shoulder and ran a finger along the decolletage of her dress. “You can't be doing too badly without me; this is a new dress, isn't it? Quark doesn't waste his coin on unsuccessful whores.”

“Successful, perhaps,” she said. “But unhappy without you.”

“Perhaps not so honest, after all,” Garak couldn't help but observe. 

“Oh, no, I'm sure it's true,” Dukat said, giving her a squeeze. “You do love me, don't you Katy? You have to at least like me more than the Klingons. Tell me – do they beat you before they fuck you, or during?”

Katy shifted her gaze to some invisible point in the distance. “A little of both,” she said quietly. Her smile never once faltered. 

Dukat put a finger on her chin and tilted her face. “And never a scratch on you; Quark's medic is an artist.” Dukat turned his attention to Julian. “And what are you waiting for? Pour us our drinks, and one for my Katy as well,” Dukat said. 

Garak ventured a glance up at Julian. His jaw was clenched, but he dutifully poured the drinks. Katy took hers immediately and drained it.

“And now you can leave us,” Dukat said. “I don't like the look of you. Have Quark send us someone less sour.”

“He isn't going anywhere,” Garak said, more sharply than he intended. “This one is mine.” 

Dukat looked surprised for a moment, then broke out into a grin, as if he just figured out something important. “Oh, I see! Well, in that case, pour yourself one as well, boy, and have a seat.” 

Garak had a feeling that forcing Julian to sit on his lap might push him a little too far. “No – I'd rather he rub my neck.”

Julian poured himself a glass of kanar, but left it untouched. He put his hands on Garak's ridges. He didn't rub very hard, for which Garak was grateful. Even that light pressure sent waves of pleasure running through him, and he didn't want to lose control of himself. 

Dukat took a sip of his drink, still grinning like an idiot. “Katy, why has it taken your boss so long to acquire some boys? I'm afraid that the poor Gul here has been left rather lonely.” 

“I didn't know he had,” she said. 

“He's not one of Quark's,” Garak said.

“Then where did he come from? He looks much too soft to be from the mines.”

Garak suppressed a sigh of irritation. He didn't really want to discuss Julian with Dukat at all, but once the Intendant arrived, the truth would come out anyway. “He came through with the Intendant's double from the other universe. I took a liking to him and decided to keep him for my own amusement.” 

Dukat sighed. “The privileges of rank – and here I have to save up my meager wages just to afford some company every now and then.” He turned to Julian. “And you are certainly fortunate, too, aren't you? It doesn't look like you would have lasted long in the processing center.”

“Oh yes, very fortunate,” Julian said. “I honestly can't believe my incredible good luck to have ended up here.”

Dukat didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. “I'm curious – is it true the Terrans are free there?”

"Yes."

At that, Katy looked up. Something flashed across her face, disturbing her normally detached expression. 

"And what do you do there?" Dukat continued.

“I'm a doctor.” 

“A doctor, really?” Dukat said. “This is quite a career change for you, then, isn't it?” He turned to Garak. “I can't believe you have him this well-behaved in such a short amount of time.”

“I've found that Terrans have a natural submissiveness, no matter where they're from,” Garak said. “It's just a matter of tapping into it.” At that, Julian gave him a hard pinch on one of his ridges. Garak managed to suppress a cry of pain.

“Too true,” Dukat said. “It's one of their race's chief charms.” He gave Katy's leg a pat before addressing Julian again. “And what does my Katy do in your universe, doctor?”

Instead of answering Dukat directly, Julian turned to Katy. “You're an engineer,” he said quietly. 

Dukat laughed uproariously. “I suppose next you'll tell me in your universe, dogs walk on their hind legs. Can you even imagine?” 

And with that, the mask slipped back onto Katy's face. She smiled, and managed a sound that passed for a laugh. "No," she said. "I can't."

“And what about me?” Dukat said to Julian. “What do I do?”

“You were commander of this station at one point, but you were forced to retreat. Last I heard, you'd been demoted and were putting around in a small freighter. It turns out that you had a habit of sleeping with slave women and occasionally impregnating them; you had a momentary lapse into decency and decided to take responsibility for one of your illegitimate children, and it cost you your career. But as you've noted, our universes are quite different – I'm sure _you'd_ never do something so reckless.” * 

Garak laughed; he couldn't help it. The look on Dukat's face was too amusing. However, Garak couldn't let Julian's insolence go by without some sort of response. He pulled Julian into his lap. “That's quite enough out of you,” he said with an air of amused indulgence. He ran a hand along Julian's flank – not quite a grope, but a very proprietary caress. He met Julian's gaze and willed him to play along.

Julian tensed for a moment; thankfully, he relented. “I was only answering his question.” He managed to change his tone from disrespectful to playfully petulant. “I can't help but do what I'm told; it's my naturally submissive nature.” 

Dukat was smiling again. “I see you like them feisty,” he said to Garak. “We have more in common than I thought! I have to admit that surprises me, given your reputation – ”

“As someone humorless?” Garak filled in quickly. He didn't want Dukat making mention of his reputation for brutality in front of Julian. “I take my work seriously, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of amusement.” 

“Of course. I didn't mean to suggest – ”

Thankfully, Dukat's blathering was interrupted when Kira walked through the door. A hush fell over the room as everyone attempted to figure out which Kira it was. Garak determined that it was the other Kira; she was wearing the purple dress Garak had seen her with earlier, and she was missing the crown the Intendant usually wore. 

His suspicions were confirmed when a moment later, the Intendant arrived with her Vulcan slaves. She was wearing the same dress as the other Kira, but there was no mistaking who was who, even without the crown. Garak frowned; they were going to have to work on that if his plan was to succeed.

Everyone in the room burst into applause. The Bajoran musician stopped his playing and called out to her. “What is your pleasure, Intendant?”

She smiled radiantly. “Play something bright – I'm in a happy mood!” 

As the musician began to play again, the Intendant embraced the other Kira. They spoke for a moment, then the Intendant scanned the room until she spotted Garak and Julian. She pointed them out with a delighted look on her face. The other Kira didn't look so pleased; in fact, she looked downright ill. The Kiras began to make their way over to their table. 

Garak nudged Julian from his lap so he could stand. Dukat stood as well. “Intendant!” Dukat said. “How radiant you look this evening! When you entered the room, it was as if a new star had suddenly burst into existence right before my eyes. And now, with your guest here, it's like twin novas; I don't know if my poor eyes can stand the strain of such brilliance.”

“You are such a shameless bootlicker, Dukat,” the Intendant said, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. “That's what I love about you. You look like you're having a good time. Why don't you take your girl here and go enjoy the rest of the party? I have some things I need to discuss with the gul.”

Dukat looked simaltaneously disappointed and relieved by the dismissal. He took Katy by the arm and led her away. Once he was gone, the Intendant turned her attention to Julian. “Why, hello, Julian,” she said with a sly smile. “So, I'm dying to know – what do you think of my outfit?” She twirled around. 

“It looks better on her,” he said.

The Intendant laughed. “Is that so? Well, I think that _you_ look fantastic – I just knew this would be a good look for you. Although, hmmm, it feels like there's something missing.” She tapped her finger to her lips, pretending to think. “Oh yes, I remember now. Solak,” she said, turning to one of her Vulcans. “Did you bring that thing I asked you to?”

The Vulcan produced a box from inside his robe. The Intendant gave it to Julian. “Go on,” she said. “Open it.” Julian hesitated for a moment before pulling the lid off. Inside was an intricately decorated gold collar and a long chain with clips at both ends. Julian's fingers fumbled and the box dropped to the floor.

“How clumsy of you!” the Intendant scolded. The Vulcan picked the box up and handed it back to the Intendant. She took the collar out of the box. “Here – since you're so clumsy tonight, allow me.” She fastened the collar around Julian neck, then clipped one end of the chain to the loop in the front. She ran her fingers along the chain, grinning, before affixing the other end of it to the front of his trousers. “There. Now you look like a proper slave. Because that's what you are, Julian – a slave. I don't think you really appreciate the reality of your situation quite yet. You aren't going back to your universe – our transporters won't take you there, because they can't. I don't know what sort of rift in space brought you here, but my guess is that it was a fluke you won't be able to catch again. You aren't a doctor anymore. You aren't a person anymore. You're a body, and that body belongs to me.” 

A fine tremor ran through Julian's body. The Intendant's smile broadened; she practically radiated glee. “Now,” she continued. “You're good-looking and amusing; as long as Garak wants to fuck you and you keep me entertained, you should be able to live a long, comfortable life. But if you make yourself a nuisance – well, let's just hope you don't, hmmm?” She gave him a pat on his ass. “Garak isn't going to need his cock sucked for at least a couple of hours, so why don't you go make yourself useful and serve my guests? Quark should be able to think of a few ways to keep you busy.” 

Garak recognized the look on Julian's face. It was a look he watched for when he was interrogating a Terran – that moment when whatever wall they'd managed to put around themselves to protect them from what was happening began to crack. He left without saying a word. 

He'd use a dull knife, Garak decided, when he cut out her tongue. 

The Intendant turned to the other Kira and quirked an eyebrow. “Well? Do you think he was properly humbled?”

The other Kira had been watching what was happening with a look of disgust and horror, but the moment the Intendant turned to her, her expression shifted. She couldn't quite manage to look pleased, but she at least looked neutral. Perhaps there was hope for Garak's plan after all. “That's the first time I've ever seen him at a loss for words.” 

The Intendant laughed. “I hope I haven't crushed him too badly – I really do find him entertaining.” She sat down in the seat Dukat had vacated. After a moment's reluctance, the other Kira sat down as well. The Intendant turned to Garak. “And now, I'm afraid, I really do have some things to go over with you.”

And then she started talking about the most mundane details concerning the running of the station. Garak couldn't figure out why she wanted to go over these things now. It was several minutes later that he realized what she was doing – she was testing him to see how much of his attention was on Julian. He did his best to appear unconcerned about what Julian was doing; if she knew how strongly Garak felt about him, she would use that weakness against him in a heartbeat. It was more difficult than he thought. The other Kira was also attempting to keep an eye on Julian without appearing as if she cared. Fortunately, she wasn't doing as good of a job as Garak, so he was able to gauge Julian's safety by watching her reactions. 

It was a good twenty minutes before the Intendant was done with him. She might have kept him longer, but he was saved when Telok finally arrived. She called him over, claiming she needed to talk some business with him as well. It might even had been true. 

Garak wasn't sure what move to make next. He scanned the room until he spotted Julian; he seemed all right, serving drinks to the guests. It was probably safe for Garak to seek him out again. However, he didn't want to rush to Julian's side immediately, lest he appear over-eager. While he was thinking, the other Kira stood up and started to head in Julian's direction. Garak stood up as well – he couldn't have her talking to Julian, not after how their last conversation had ended. “Is there something that you require, Major?” he asked.

“I just thought I'd get a drink,” she said.

“Oh, but you're the guest of honor! You shouldn't have to fetch things for yourself.”

The Intendant broke off her conversation with Telok for a moment. “How rude of me! You must be parched. And Garak is right – don't trouble yourself! That's what servants are for.” She sent her Vulcans off to the bar. “I'm very sorry, my Nierys – you must be bored out of your mind. I'll only be a few more minutes – just relax and enjoy yourself.”

The other Kira glared at Garak and sat back down stiffly. Garak sat back down as well. The Intendant resumed her conversation with Telok. “Enjoying yourself?” the other Kira said through a forced smile. 

“About as much as you are, I expect,” Garak said. 

She turned away with a derisive scoff. Her eyes widened suddenly in alarm. Garak followed her gaze across the room. A Bajoran man had Julian backed into a corner. Garak recognized him – Buran, one of the Intendant's lackeys. Julian was attempting to get away, but Buran blocked him each time. Julian made one last lunge to get away, but Buran grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. He pinned him there with his body, forcing a knee between his legs while he began to grope him.

Garak was halfway across the room before he was aware that he'd made the decision to move. He pulled Buran off of Julian and shoved him away; it was all he could to stop himself from hitting him. 

Buran caught his balance. “Something the matter, Gul?” He smiled unpleasantly. He didn't seem particularly surprised by the interruption. 

“I thought your taste generally ran to little girls,” Garak said, dodging the question. 

“It does,” he said. “But when I heard that there was a Terran slave that had inflamed the passions of our normally stoic second-in-command, I had to see for myself what the fuss was about. Does that bother you?”

Garak realized he'd been set up. He turned around, and sure enough, the Intendant was watching and laughing so hard she was clutching her sides. Telok and the other Kira were staring at him with perplexed looks. 

Garak turned back to Buran. “You can leave now – you've played your part,” he growled. 

Buran gave him a mocking little bow before walking away. 

Garak turned his attention to Julian, who seemed shaken but otherwise unharmed. “Are you all right?” he asked lowly. There was little point now in pretending he didn't care. 

Julian nodded. Garak looked back at the the Intendant; she was talking to the other Kira now. He didn't know what they were saying, but they were looking right at them. Being under the scrutiny of twin pairs of eyes was unnerving. There was nowhere in the room they could escape from them, or from the increasingly drunken and ugly crowd. They had to get away. But would the Intendant let them leave? Perhaps not, but maybe there was another way to escape at least long enough to catch their breath. 

“Come with me,” Garak said. Julian followed him to the bar; after a few minutes, Quark approached them. 

“Can I help you?” Quark asked. 

“I would like to book a private holosuite for an hour,” Garak said. 

“Of course,” Quark said. “Which program?”

Garak hesitated. He didn't frequent the holosuites. “I don't know – anything. Something nice.”

Quark considered him for a moment. “I've got just the thing. Come with me.”

They followed Quark up the stairs to the suites. The Intendant and her double were still watching them. The Intendant gave Garak a knowing smirk and turned away to speak to Telok again, seemingly content to let them be for the moment. The other Kira looked alarmed; for a moment, Garak thought that she might follow them. Julian mouthed “I'm all right,” to her. She still looked upset, but she stayed where she was.

Quark stopped at one of the holosuite doors and pushed a few buttons. “There you are,” he said. “Opoki's Palace, one of our most luxurious programs. I'll just charge it to your account, then?”

Garak nodded curtly. The door opened and he stepped in. Julian started to follow him, but Quark stopped him. “I have a medic on staff,” he said quietly to him. “You just come see me when it's over, and – ”

“That won't be necessary,” Garak interrupted. 

Quark bowed and backed away. “As you say, sir.” Still, he made sure he met Julian's gaze one more time before he left. Julian gave him a little nod. 

After Quark was gone, Julian stepped inside. The doors shut. They were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I know that Dukat's fall from grace doesn't occur until later in the series, but for the sake of the joke, let's say it happened earlier. We're already in AU-land, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Opoki's Palace, the program Quark had selected for them, was based on a real place on Bajor. At one point in Bajor's history, it was the home of royalty; now, it served as a retreat for the wealthy and powerful. It was an enormous structure, containing beautiful gardens, massive halls for every sort of entertainment one could imagine, and, of course, ornate private rooms.

The program opened in one of those rooms. It was large, with vaulted ceilings that gave the room an open feeling. There was a sitting area towards the front, containing several richly decorated chairs and lounging sofas. A few small tables held refreshments: breads, fruits and cheeses, as well as bottles of wine. The left side of the room opened up into a balcony that had its own set of furniture and refreshments. Towards the back of the room was an enormous bed, partially hidden by curtains which hung from the ceiling. 

Garak and Julian stood there for a moment, not certain of what to say to each other. Julian didn't look well; it was the first time since he'd arrived that he seemed truly shaken. “Thank you,” he said eventually. “I can normally take care of myself, but...” The shock seemed to be wearing off; now he seemed angry. “I don't know what happened. I'm not some fragile child who can't take care of himself. I've been threatened before. Why did I just stand there? What's wrong with me?” 

“It's a good thing you didn't. If you had fought back, I don't know if I could have stopped the Intendant from having you...disciplined.”

“Right. Because Terrans don't speak back to their masters, and they certainly don't put up a fuss when threatened with rape.” He started to pace around the room, his voice rising with every word. “Or I suppose that it isn't even rape; it's not as if I'm a person with my own will. I'm a _thing_ now, just an object to be used and discarded..!” 

Julian sat down on one of the sofas and put his head in his hands, taking a few deep breaths. After a few moments, he appeared more composed. “I didn't think going through with this would bother me. I told myself that it would just be for a few hours and that it wasn't real, but I already feel less than myself. Like a thing instead of a person.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shivered, even though the sun streaming in from the balcony made the room warm. Garak sat down beside him. He picked up one of the velvet throw blankets from a nearby chair and draped it over Julian's shoulders. Julian gave him a weak smile. “So much for not letting her get to me,” he said. 

“Don't blame yourself,” Garak said. “It's something that she's extremely good at.” 

“What does she want? Is this just some sadistic game to her?”

“Partly,” Garak said. “The other part of it is that she wants me gone. I work for the Cardassian military, not her, and she's obligated to keep at least two Cardassian officers in her ranks. She has some say over who she accepts into new positions, but I was here before she was. The only way she can be rid of me is if I'm promoted, or if I choose to leave. She thinks that if she makes me miserable enough, I'll abandon my post.”

“And she thinks that hurting me will make you miserable?”

“I think that's what she was trying to gauge tonight – to see how much I care about what happens to you.”

“And do you care?” Julian asked. He was giving him that searching look again – the same one he'd given him when Garak gave him the chocolates, and when he undid his restraint. 

Was there any point in denying it now? “Yes,” he said quietly. Their gazes met for a moment. Garak almost said something, but the words caught in his throat. 

Julian stood up abruptly and walked over to the balcony; he kept the blanket over his shoulder in place with one hand. He looked even more stunning in the sunlight than he did in the pale lights of the space station. Garak felt like his heart was going to burst, it ached so badly. 

“It's a nice program,” Julian said. “What planet is this supposed to be?”

Garak was somewhat relieved at the change of subject, since he had no idea what to say next. “Bajor.”

“I thought so. The name sounded familiar – this is an ancient royal palace, isn't it?”

“Yes, but not anymore. Bajor hasn't had royalty in centuries.”

“Same on our side. It's supposed to be a lovely historical site. Whenever I'm on Bajor, I mean to visit it, but never quite seem to get there.”

“You go to Bajor often?”

“Every few months. It's the closest planet to the station; it's nice to have a break from life in deep space.”

Garak walked over to stand beside Julian. “I'm going to live on Bajor one day,” he said. 

“I thought you wanted to be in command of this station.”

“What I want is a promotion so I can finally leave this wretched place behind. Who would _want_ to be here?”

“Well – the Intendant, I'd imagine,” Julian said.

Garak scoffed. “I doubt it. She likes being in control, but I'm sure she hates this place as much as everyone else,” he said. “It's not as if any of the wealth that comes out of this station is actually hers. For all of her pretenses of royalty, she's a government drone. She's as stuck here as I am.” 

They stood beside one another for several long moments, looking out at the view of the spectacular gardens below them. Garak tried to gauge what Julian was thinking; he couldn't tell if he was deliberately avoiding looking at him or if he was simply lost in thought. “Things would not be so bad for you on Bajor,” Garak said eventually. “If you can't get back to your universe, I could take you there. Not right away, of course, but in time...”

Julian finally turned to look at him. He didn't seem surprised by Garak's offer, but he didn't seem pleased, either. “I really don't think – ”

“I wouldn't ask anything of you,” Garak rushed ahead before he could finish. “No one would treat you poorly; I wouldn't allow it.”

“I'm going back to my universe,” he said, gently but firmly. 

“But what if the Intendant is right, and you can't?”

“She may be right about the transporters, but she doesn't know about the wormhole. If it brought us here, I'm sure it can bring us back. And even if I can't get back – I can't stay here, or anywhere where I'd be enslaved. It would kill me.”

“Terrans are enslaved everywhere in this galaxy.”

“You mean on worlds under the Alliance,” Julian pointed out. “The galaxy is an awfully big place. There has to be somewhere I could escape to. I could even venture into the Gamma Quadrant.” 

“No, it's too dangerous. Other Terrans have thought that before you and have paid the price. I won't let you get yourself killed.”

Julian gave him a startled look. “I'm not looking for your permission,” he said. “You aren't planning on trying to stop me from leaving, are you?” When Garak didn't answer right away, his tone grew even more alarmed. “You have to promise me that you'll help me leave this station, even if I can't return to my universe.”

Garak met his gaze. He couldn't possibly say no to those eyes; however, he didn't have to mean it. “I promise,” he lied. “It's just that I care what happens to you,” he added, more honestly. “More than I've cared about anything in quite some time.”

Julian's expression softened. “You should leave, too,” he said. 

“What?”

“Leave this station. You said you only want to depose the Intendant so that you can move on. What if you're never promoted? You could be stuck here for years.”

Garak wasn't sure what to say. He'd never considered just getting up and leaving before. “I can't just leave; it would end my career.”

“Your career in a military for a planet you hate – how much is that really worth?” Julian seemed to be really warming up to the idea now. “We still need to depose the Intendant, of course, since it would make the Major's and my escape possible. Beside, I can't in good conscience leave this place in her hands if I can help it. But once our Kira's made the switch, she can appoint someone else to be in charge – someone who _isn't_ a monster. Maybe someone who will work on freeing the rest of the Terrans. Then you can resign your commission.”

“But what would I do with myself?” 

“I don't know – anything you want. I have a feeling you'd make a decent tailor,” he said with a grin. “Or you could buy a shuttlecraft and set off to see the universe.” 

“Would you come with me?” Garak said impulsively. “I know, you're going back to your universe,” he said when Julian started to protest. “But if that's not possible for whatever reason – would you come with me?”

“That's a difficult question to answer,” he said gently. “I've only just met you.”

“But you _know_ me,” Garak said. “You've almost as good as said it – I'm just like him, aren't I?”

“You look like him, and there does seem to be some similarity in your personalities,” Julian said. “And I'll admit that this has all been...confusing. But in the end, you're not the same. You aren't _my_ Elim.” 

“I could be,” he said. “If you gave me the chance.”

Whatever response Julian was going to give him was cut short by the sound of the bell at the door. Garak and Julian exchanged looks. The bell sounded again.

“You should probably answer that,” Julian said.

Garak reluctantly walked to the door and opened it. It was the Intendant, of course. With her was one of her Vulcan servants, the other Kira, and Benjamin Sisko. 

“Hel-lo!” the Intendant said in a sing-song voice. She looked into the room over Garak's shoulder. “Oh good, you haven't started yet.” She brushed past him; the others trailed behind her. 

Garak was speechless at first. His hands began to shake with rage. “How dare you barge in here,” Garak said once he was capable of speaking. “You can't keep invading my privacy like this. I'm your second-in-command, not one of your slaves, and I demand that you – ”

“Oh, relax,” she interrupted. “I rang the bell, didn't I? And I'm not here to spoil your fun.” She glanced at the blanket around Julian's shoulders. “You know, generally you're supposed to start taking things off rather than putting them on. I know you're probably new at this, Garak, but I assumed that you'd get at least _that_ right.” 

“What do you want?” Garak said.

“My Nierys was concerned about Julian's safety.” She turned to her counterpart. “See? I told you he was fine.”

The other Kira walked over to Julian. “Are you?” she asked him directly. 

He nodded. “Yes, I'm all right.”

“Of course he is,” the Intendant said. “ _Elim_ here is in love; he wouldn't do anything to hurt his dear Julian.” She wandered over to the sitting area and draped herself on one of the sofas. Once she had sat down, Sisko took one of the chairs, slouching in it with one leg dangled over the arm. He took a knife from his belt and began picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

“Mmm, I love this program,” the Intendant said. “The seats are so decadently soft – aren't they, Benjamin?”

“Indeed they are,” Sisko said. He smiled at his knife.

“I don't believe you've met Julian yet,” she said. “Julian, this is Benjamin. Benjamin, Julian.”

Sisko turned his smile from the knife to Julian. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “How did you like the chocolates?”

Julian was caught off-guard by the question. “They were fine,” he mumbled. 

The Intendant held a hand out to the other Kira. “Come, my Nierys – sit by me. We might as well have a drink while we're here.” 

The other Kira reluctantly crossed the room and sat down beside the Intendant. The Vulcan servant poured two glasses and handed them to the Intendant, who handed one to the other Kira in turn. “My poor Nierys,” she said, stroking her arm lightly. “You're still upset, I can tell. Why didn't you tell me you cared about Julian?”

“I'm a little afraid of you,” the other Kira said after a moment. 

The Intendant looked pained. “I don't want your fear,” she said. “I want your love! If you can't love me – ” She stopped herself as if she'd revealed too much. After a sip of her drink, she continued in a brighter tone. “And there's no need to fear me! I know that I can come across as a little...harsh, but that's only because I have to be firm to run this station. I'm really a very gentle person, so long as people don't lie to me or disobey me. Isn't that right, Benjamin?”

“There are newborn lambs who are more vicious than you,” Sisko said. 

The Intendant smiled. “You see? And Julian's fine, aren't you Julian?” she said, calling over to him.

Julian clenched his jaw and said nothing. 

The Intendant sighed. “Oh, stop sulking. I only have your best interests at heart. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hard on you, but I'm simply trying to make your transition into your new life as quick as possible. Considering the alternatives, you should be grateful you've ended up where you are. Just because you aren't free doesn't mean you can't be happy. I mean, look at Benjamin here. He started in the processing center, but like you, he was lucky enough to catch the eye of someone important. Now he has everything he could ever want. You _are_ happy, aren't you, Benjamin?”

“I greet every morning with a song in my heart,” Sisko said without looking up.

She looked over at Garak. “I'm looking out for you, too, believe it or not. Do you really think that he's going to easily trade his freedom just for the chance to warm your bed? No, I'm afraid that Julian here is using you in order to make an escape attempt. I can't believe that I have to tell this to you, of all people, but you need to put him in his place. He'll be happier for it.” She beckoned to the two of them. “Come now, both of you – sit down, have a drink. Let's all be friends.”

“My duties don't include being your friend,” Garak spat. 

“Did I hurt your feelings?” the Intendant said with a pout. “I have to say – I'm finding this new, tender side of you rather adorable.” 

“Play your games with someone else. You can't order me to stay.” 

“Maybe not you,” she said. “But I can certainly order him.” She turned her attention to Julian. “Come on, now. You can sit on the floor here by me.”

“No,” Julian said. 

The Intendant's eyes flashed with annoyance. “You see, this is exactly what I'm talking about. 'No' isn't a part of your vocabulary anymore. Get over here.” When Julian still didn't budge, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Being this stubborn is only going to make you miserable in the long run – can't you see that? Don't you want to be happy?”

“As if you could possibly know what makes anyone happy,” Julian said. 

“Don't be silly,” she said. “I'm the picture of happiness!” 

“I don't think so,” Julian said. “In fact, I think you're one of the saddest people I've ever met. There's an emptiness in you, and you're starting to realize that you're powerless to fill it. That's why you play all these little games with people's lives, because the only real power you have is the ability to make everyone around you more miserable than yourself. But no matter what you do to me, or to anyone else, it won't change the fact that you will never know what love feels like. You'll never even have a true friend. You will always be alone.”

The smile dropped off the Intendant's face. “I think I know a lot more about happiness than you do,” she said. “You've had an easy life, haven't you? No real hardships, everything handed to you – I can tell. You're spoiled and arrogant. Someone who's never known pain can never truly appreciate the happiness that comes their way.” 

Her smile had returned, but it was much sharper than before. “So I'm going to give you a gift. Benjamin is going to bring you over here, and I am going to have him do things to you that you couldn't possibly imagine even in your worst nightmares. And when I've decided that you've had enough – when you beg me for mercy – I'll have whatever's left of you scraped up and sent back to Garak here, and the relief that you feel will send you into the most ecstatic heights of happiness that you've ever known!” 

“No!” the other Kira shouted.

The Intendant stopped her tirade and looked over at her counterpart. She seemed startled, as if she'd forgotten she was there. 

“Please,” the other Kira continued in a more measured tone. “Just – let him go. For me.”

The sharpness had left the Intendant's expression; now she seemed almost embarrassed. “Oh, all right,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if they'd been arguing over what to have for dinner rather than whether or not to torture someone. She turned to her Vulcan slave. “Solak – take Julian back to the Gul's chambers, and make sure he stays there.” She pointed to Garak. “But you're staying for a drink. Those feelings that Julian thinks I don't have are starting to get very hurt.” 

Garak didn't argue – he couldn't. Anything he might have said would have come out in a pant; he felt as if he'd barely outrun a pack of hungry wolves. Once Julian was led from the room, his heartbeat started to slow. He felt a surge of anger – at the Intendant, of course, but also at Julian. He was angry at his recklessness, but also at his ability to make Garak feel this way. He hadn't been frightened like this since he was a child. This whole situation was complete folly; for a brief moment, he wished that Julian had never come into his life.

Garak sat down on the one remaining empty chair beside Sisko, who was now sitting up instead of slouching in his seat. His demeanor had changed since the Intendant had made her threat; before, he seemed uninterested in the proceedings, but now he was watching everyone with subtle but intense interest. Garak wondered what he was thinking; he hadn't seemed eager to carry out her orders, at the very least.

Sisko put his knife on one of the tables and picked up a bottle of wine. “Allow me,” he said, and he poured them both a glass. Their gazes met when he handed the drink to Garak; for once, he didn't seem mocking. Garak felt like those dark eyes were searching him for something, but he wasn't sure what. 

The Intendant finished her wine and stared moodily at the bottom of her glass. “This wine was terrible,” she said. “It's given me an awful headache.” She tossed the glass aside; it shattered on the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking like a sulky child. “I wasn't really going to hurt him,” she added eventually. “Not _that_ badly. I was just trying to frighten him a little. I have to be firm. Imagine if all the Terrans had his attitude; nothing would ever get done.” She touched the other Kira's arm. “You understand that, don't you?”

“I'm sure you only do what you think is best,” the other Kira said in a flat tone. 

The Intendant continued to stroke her arm lightly. “Once you've been here for awhile, you'll see. I do it all for them, and I'm so alone – no one understands my burden. But that's all going to change now that you're here. We're still friends, aren't we?” 

The other Kira managed to nod, but didn't look at the Intendant. The Intendant frowned, but instead of saying something to her, she directed her displeasure at Garak. “And I don't see where _you_ get off acting as if the thought of discipline is something that horrifies you. You discipline Terrans so enthusiastically that they sometimes don't survive to appreciate the lesson! Does your Julian know that? I'm thinking he doesn't. Maybe I should bring him back here and tell him all of the nasty things you get up to!”

Sisko suddenly stood up. He walked over behind the Intendant and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “Haven't they taken up enough of your time?” he said as he began to massage her. “You promised me that we would have fun tonight. I'm not having any fun – are you?” 

She sighed and leaned into the caress. “No, I'm not. And this evening started out so promising.” 

He leaned down until his mouth was by her ear. “It isn't over yet,” he said. 

She let out a hum of pleasure, but she wasn't quite ready to give up her sulk. “I suppose not, but now I have this awful headache.”

“Why don't we go sit on the balcony? The fresh air might help.”

“It's not really fresh air,” the Intendant pointed out. “It's fake, like everything else here.”

“It feels real enough,” Sisko said. He rounded the sofa and helped her to her feet, then placed a kiss on her hand. 

“Oh, all right,” she said, her foul mood almost completely evaporated. “If you insist.” She turned and headed for the balcony. 

As soon as her back was turned, the other Kira stood and made a move to pick up the knife that Sisko had put on the table. Sisko quickly put his hand over hers, preventing her from picking it up. When their gazes met, he silently shook his head. She reluctantly released her grip. 

The Intendant turned back around. “What are you doing?” she said when she saw Sisko's hand on the other Kira's.

“She stumbled when she stood up,” Sisko said smoothly. “I think her head is hurting, too. She has your delicate constitution.”

“Is that it?” the Intendant asked the other Kira. “You're not feeling well?”

She nodded. “Yes. The wine...”

The Intendant looked relieved. “Of course – it's the wine. You do look pale. Poor thing.”

“Perhaps she should return to her quarters,” Sisko said. “To rest.”

The Intendant hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she said finally. “That's probably for the best.” She walked back across the room and embraced her. “Good night, my Nierys. Sleep well.” 

She turned to Garak. “I suppose you can go, too,” she said. She pointed a finger at him. “But next time I see Julian, he better be nicer to me. The assignments for Terran slaves are ultimately my decision, and if you can't keep him in line, I'll give him to Odo.”

“That won't be necessary,” Garak said quickly. 

“You really _have_ fallen for him, haven't you?” she said with a sly smile. “Don't worry – I'm not going to snatch him away from you without cause. I think it's good you have something to care about other than your petty little ambitions. And now you have something to lose; that's bound to improve your temperament.” She gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Good night, Garak.”

Garak and the other Kira left the room together and made their way out of Quark's bar. As soon as they were alone, Garak pulled her aside. “What did you think you were doing back there!?”

“I had to do something!” she said. “I can understand why you might be confused since I look exactly like _her_ , but I'm not a psychopath. I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while my friend is threatened with torture!”

“And so, what – you thought you could just stab her to death and then waltz off of this station without any trouble? The whole crew is in that bar – and Sisko was even in the room...” He stopped. “Wait. Were you expecting him to help you? Are you working with him?”

“I'm not discussing anything with you,” she said. She started to walk away. Garak grabbed her arm – that was a mistake. Before he knew it, she had him slammed up against the wall, her forearm against his throat. She'd also relieved him of his phaser, which was now pressed against his temple.

“If you kill me, you'll never escape,” Garak managed to choke out. “They'll hear the phaser fire and be after you in minutes.”

After a tense few moments, she released him. He snatched the phaser from her and put it back its holster. As much as he'd like to, he couldn't kill her here; he suspected that she knew that, too. “Sisko can't help you,” he said. “His power is dependent on the Intendant's favor. If she's gone, he'll be useless to you.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” she said. “He has a ship.”

“And why should he help you? His fortune depends on the Intendant – why would he ruin what he has here? He's not the type to help others out of the kindness of his heart.”

“I'm pretty sure I have a better shot with him than I have with you.”

“Now, that simply isn't true. I offered you a deal. It's still on the table.”

She laughed. “Oh, please. You never intended on honoring that deal and we both know it. At first I thought you might, but now that I've seen the extent of your sick infatuation with Bashir, I know you were never planning on letting us leave. You were going to let me take the Intendant's place, and then you were going to arrange for some 'accident' to befall me. Isn't that right?”

Garak didn't have a good answer to that, so he said nothing.

“What did you think was going to happen after you got rid of me? That Bashir would just resign himself to staying here? I've been asking around about you – you're just as much of a monster as the Intendant. He's going to see through whatever lies you've been telling him eventually. You aren't the man he loves – you just look like him. And once he knows the truth about you, he'll be as horrified and disgusted by you as I am.”

She turned to leave again; this time, Garak didn't try to stop her. As soon as she was out of sight, he tapped his comm badge. “Garak to Telok.”

“Here, sir.”

“I need you to post a guard to the Intendant's double's room – no, two guards. Make sure she doesn't leave until morning.”

There was a pause. “Understood,” he said, but Garak could hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

“I'll explain everything tomorrow,” he said. He hoped that he could. 

He made his way back to his quarters as fast as he could without running. Had the other Kira come for Julian? The Vulcan slave was there, he told himself. She couldn't have gotten past him. Besides, she probably didn't know where his quarters were. And where would she take him? There was nowhere she could hide him, she had to realize that – 

He found the Vulcan standing guard by the door, seemingly undisturbed. “Has anyone been by here?” he asked him.

“No, sir.”

Garak breathed a sigh of relief. “You can leave now,” he said. The Vulcan bowed and left. 

Garak didn't enter the door right away, taking a moment to compose himself. Everything was falling apart. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had tonight, at least. _Just one night_ , he pleaded silently – to whom he didn't know. _One night, that's all I ask._

He took a deep breath and steadied himself, then opened the door and stepped through.


	6. Chapter 6

Julian was sitting on the sofa, but he stood as soon as Garak entered the room. The look of relief on Julian's face helped lift Garak's feeling of foreboding. For the moment, at least, Julian was still happy to see him. 

“Are you all right?” Julian asked.

“I'm fine,” Garak said, crossing the room quickly until he was at Julian's side. “And you?”

“Fine, except – ” Julian gestured to the collar that still encircled his neck. “I can't seem to get this off. Could you – ?” he asked, turning around. 

“Of course.” Garak examined the back of the collar and soon figured out the mechanism to remove it. He noticed there were scratch marks all over the skin of his neck. He traced a finger along one of them. “I'm sorry I couldn't get back sooner.”

Julian turned around again. “You're back much earlier than I expected, to be honest. What happened?”

“Sisko convinced the Intendant to let me and your Kira go.”

“So she's alone now,” Julian said eagerly. “That means we can go talk with her – we should go at once!”

“No,” Garak said. “She's under heavy guard. It still isn't safe.”

Julian sank down to the sofa. “I have to get out of here. I don't know if I can take another second of it.”

After putting the collar down on the end table, Garak sat down beside him. “Tomorrow,” Garak promised. “We'll work everything out tomorrow.” He was lying to himself as much as he was to Julian by this point.

They sat beside each other for a few awkward moments. It looked like Garak's prayer for one undisturbed night was being granted, but now that he had it, he wasn't sure what to do. He wanted Julian so badly he ached, but he knew Julian didn't feel the same way. He knew the other Kira was right, too – that Julian would never want him if he ever learned of the terrible things he'd done. Everything that Julian had said to the Intendant was true about him as well: he inflicted misery on others because he himself was miserable. His life was empty; that was something he had known for a long time, but Julian's arrival in his life made him confront that fact for the first time. Should he tell Julian that? What would be the point? 

It was Julian who finally broke the silence. “I have to say, that was the single worst party I've been to in my entire life.” He gave Garak a small smile. 

Garak didn't react for a few seconds, but then he started to laugh. Once he started, he couldn't stop. He leaned back against the sofa and put his hands over his face until the laughter subsided. There were tears in his eyes. 

He felt a touch on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” Julian asked. 

Garak removed his hands. Julian was leaning in very close to him, a concerned look on his face. Before he could think, he put a hand on the back of Julian's neck and pulled him into a kiss. 

Julian pulled back immediately. “Elim – ” he started.

“Please,” Garak begged. “You're leaving, I know, but I just want one night to forget it all – to forget the misery and the degradation; forget the things – ” _The things I've done_ , he almost said, but caught himself. “The things that happen here. Just give me one night to remember, please...” He knew how pathetic he sounded, but he didn't care. 

Julian gave him a long, searching look. After what seemed like an eternity, he gave Garak a small nod. “All right,” he said quietly. “One night.”

Garak surged forward and kissed him again, and this time, Julian kissed him back. Garak wrapped his arms around Julian to pull him closer; Julian pulled back again. “What's wrong?” Garak said, feeling his heart sink. Had he changed his mind?

“Your armor,” Julian said. “It's poking me. How do you – ?” He ran his hands along his sides, looking for a way to remove it. 

Garak showed him where it unclasped, and soon it was sent clattering to the floor. It was followed by his undershirt. Garak didn't move to kiss Julian again right away; he felt suddenly self-conscious, even though this wasn't the first time Julian had seen him half-naked. The circumstances now were much different. 

Julian reached out tentatively and started to stroke one of ridges of Garak's neck. Garak shuddered in pleasure. His breath started to come in great heaving gasps; he shut his eyes and tried to slow it. Julian must have sensed that he was overwhelmed, because he stopped his caress. 

After a moment, Garak felt Julian's hand on his face. He opened his eyes to find Julian inches from him. “All right?” he asked. Garak nodded. This time, Julian initiated the kiss. He kept it shallow and gentle, only deepening it when Garak put his arms around him again. As the kiss grew more intense, Julian started to stroke his neck again. Garak couldn't back away from the pleasure this time. He broke off the kiss and made a move to roll Julian over while pulling his trousers down. 

Julian made a startled sound and moved back abruptly. He pulled his trousers back into place with his one hand and put the other on Garak's chest to hold him back. “Hold on – that's moving a bit quick, don't you think?”

Garak felt a rush of embarrassment; he was acting like an over-eager virgin. He'd always paid for his sexual encounters; he'd never been with someone who actually wanted to be with him. _And you still haven't_ , he reminded himself bitterly. Julian wasn't doing this because he wanted him – he'd taken pity on him, nothing more. His embarrassment shifted to anger – some directed at Julian for not loving him, but mostly directed at himself for being so pathetic.

Julian must have sensed Garak's shift in mood. He put his hand on Garak's face again and gave him a reassuring smile. “We're not in any hurry, are we?” he said. His voice was so warm that Garak felt all of his bitterness dissolve. Perhaps it wasn't real, but for now, it was close enough. Julian took his hand and stood, tugging him gently towards the bedroom. Garak floated helplessly behind him. 

They sat down on the edge of the bed. Julian slid his hands around Garak waist and started to kiss him again. Garak resolved not to rush things this time. He tried to concentrate on enjoying the moment, but he felt self-conscious again, worried that he was doing something wrong. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands; they eventually settled themselves on Julian's shoulders. 

He finally started to relax into the embrace, kissing back without thought. It seemed that was what Julian had been waiting for; he pulled back and gave him an impish smile. Garak felt himself smiling back; when was the last time he had genuinely smiled? He couldn't remember.

Julian kissed a trail down Garak's body, then slid down to the floor, settling himself between Garak's knees. He started to undo the laces on Garak's boots. It was one of the most erotic sites Garak had ever seen – Julian, kneeling between his legs, his lips wet and full from kissing. Garak bit his lip in an attempt to take the edge off of the surges of desire rolling through him. Julian removed each boot, followed by his socks. He kissed the inside of his still-clothed thigh briefly before he reached up to undo the fastening of his trousers and helped Garak slide out of them.

His cock was so hard by that point that it was almost painful. Julian ran his hands up the inside of Garak's legs and encouraged him to spread them wider. He took Garak's cock in one hand and nuzzled it against his face, then licked it from base to tip with one wide swipe of his tongue. He did that again, and again, and on the third trip up, he finally took the whole thing into his mouth. Garak's hips bucked off of the bed – or they would have, except Julian had anticipated his reaction and had already placed firm hand on Garak's hip, holding him down with surprising strength. 

He moved his head up and down the length of his cock for several minutes, but just when Garak thought he was going to come, he pulled away. He moved down and took his balls into his mouth, sucking them gently until they were thoroughly wet. He finally released them, moving to nuzzle his cock again, planting wet kisses and licks all over the length. After another brief suck, he pulled away completely. He stood and pushed Garak back onto the bed. He climbed on top of him, capturing his mouth in another kiss. There was nothing gentle about his mouth now – the kiss was hot and wet and open, and it took Garak's breath away. 

Julian broke the kiss and mouthed his way down one of the ridges of Garak's neck. When he got to his shoulder, he licked his way back up and repeated the treatment down the other side. Garak was beyond conscious control of his body, thrusting mindlessly against Julian's thigh. He was going to come soon, he could feel it. Julian took his cock in his hand, but instead of touching him the way he wanted, he lightly pinched just below the head. 

“Not yet,” he whispered in his ear. 

Garak whimpered. Julian dragged his open mouth down Garak's neck to his chest. He took one of Garak's nipples in his mouth and sucked, all the while maintaining that light pressure on the head of his cock. After a few moments, he moved on to the other. He used his free hand to stroke the left ridge of Garak's neck. He thought he was going to lose his mind. He didn't know which he wanted more – to come, or for this to last forever. 

Finally, Julian decided he'd had enough. He moved down his body and took his cock into his mouth again. He didn't hold Garak back this time, letting him thrust into his mouth freely. It only took a few moments before Garak was coming, harder than he had in his entire life. Julian kept him in his mouth the entire time, only pulling away when the last shudder ran through Garak's body.

Garak collapsed on the bed. His whole body buzzed with pleasure – different from the sort he'd felt minutes before. This was a relaxed pleasure that didn't demand attention or release. It was a pleasure that settled into his bones, as if to stay for a while. He'd never felt anything like it. 

It took a few pleasure-buzzed minutes before Garak came back to himself enough to realize he'd neglected Julian completely. He hadn't even noticed that Julian had moved up to lie beside him. He turned over on his side so that they were lying face to face. 

“Should I – ?” he started, stumbling a bit with the question. “What should I do for you?”

Julian just shrugged, smiled a little. “You don't have to do anything.” 

The pleasurable haze which had seemed so permanent a moment ago abruptly faded. _Of course not,_ Garak thought. Because this was a favor that Julian had done for him: an act of pity, not an act of desire. He hadn't even undressed. But when Garak shifted forward a bit, he brushed against an unmistakable hardness in the front of his trousers. When he put his hand on it, Julian sucked in a breath. And when Garak leaned in to kiss him, he didn't pull away. 

He knew he didn't have any hope of performing the way Julian had, but Garak wanted this encounter to be one of mutual pleasure. Now that he had been sated, he felt less hurried and more in control. He took his time with the kiss, enjoying the feel of Julian's mouth against his. He started to stroke Julian's neck, and then his shoulder. He was hesitant at first, but when Julian responded to his touch with a moan, his touch grew more confidant. He moved further down along his back, marveling at how soft and warm his skin felt beneath his fingers. When he reached Julian's hip, he tugged at waistband of his trousers. This time, Julian let him pull them down. 

Garak felt a flush of renewed pleasure at the sight of Julian's hard cock. Since Garak had mostly been with prostitutes, he'd never paid attention to their arousal. He knew they didn't want to be with him and didn't care enough to ask them to pretend. But here was proof that Julian _wanted_ him – whatever his motivation had been for saying yes, for at least this one moment he _wanted_ him. The power of that was almost more than Garak could bear. 

He took Julian's cock in his hand and gave it an experimental stroke. Julian moaned, so he did it again, and again. Gaining confidence, he moved downward until his head was even with Julian's cock. He'd never done this before, but he couldn't imagine it could be that difficult. He started with a lick up the center, just as Julian had done for him. Julian made more encouraging noises, so Garak continued until his cock was wet and glistening. He moved his lips over the head and tried to take the whole thing in his mouth, but gagged when he went too far. He pulled away in frustration.

Before he could get too upset, Julian put a hand on his cheek and smiled down at him. “It's all right. You can put your mouth over the just head and use your hand for the rest,” he said. “It feels just as good, I promise.” 

Garak felt a surge of embarrassment at his inexperience, but he was grateful for the instruction. He did as Julian said, holding the head in his mouth as he used his hand on the shaft. He experimented with different ways to use his tongue, using Julian's moans as a guide. As he gained confidence, he began to speed up his strokes. Remarkably, he felt his own cock stir again, and soon he was hard. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but eventually Julian pulled away. Garak looked up at him in puzzlement. 

“Close,” Julian said breathlessly. He tugged Garak upwards until they were face to face and pulled him into a kiss. Garak wrapped his hand back around Julian's cock and started to stroke him again, faster and faster until Julian cried out and came, wetting Garak's palm and his own belly with his come. When he was finished, Garak moved his hand to his own cock and began to stroke himself. 

Julian looked down. “What, again?” he said with a breathless laugh. He put his own hand over Garak's and soon Garak came again – a weak sputter compared with his last orgasm but very satisfying nonetheless. 

They lay beside one another, their chests heaving. Garak buried his face in Julian's neck; he was gasping for air, but he never wanted to catch his breath. His arm snaked around Julian's waist. After some time, Julian pulled away. He moved off of the bed; or, rather, he tried to – Garak grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving. “Where are you going?” 

Julian gave him a bewildered look. “To get washed up,” he said. “I'm a bit sticky; it's uncomfortable.” 

“Oh,” Garak said. That made sense. 

“Let go of my arm,” Julian said a moment later when Garak still hadn't released him. 

“Of course,” Garak said, hastily letting him go. Julian stood up and rubbed his arm. He stared at Garak for a moment, his expression shifting from bewildered to disturbed; he turned from him abruptly and left for the washroom. 

Garak silently berated himself as he listened to the water running. How had he managed to ruin things so quickly? He sat up; he was somewhat sticky himself, but wasn't about to disturb Julian. He settled for using Julian's discarded gold trousers to wipe up as best he could while he tried to think of some way to fix things. 

Julian emerged from the washroom fifteen minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He barely looked at Garak as he went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of Garak's sleeping trousers. He put them on quickly.

Finally, he turned to Garak. “I think I might owe you an apology,” he said.

Garak blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Because my good intentions have spectacularly misfired, as usual. I thought I was making things better for you, but now I'm fairly certain I've made them worse.”

For a brief moment, Garak wanted to spit at him that he could keep his pity, but he had already sabotaged himself enough for one evening. And after all, was he not a pitiful creature? He managed to give Julian an amused little smile. “You aren't going to break my heart, if that's what you're worried about. I _am_ an adult, you know, not a moody adolescent.” 

“Oh, of course,” Julian said quickly. “I didn't mean to imply that you – ” He cut off and sighed. “I should probably stop talking altogether before I dig myself in deeper. I _am_ sorry, though. I don't mean to play with your emotions.” 

“I should be the one apologizing,”Garak said. “I didn't mean to startle you. Truth be told, I startled myself. I suppose I hadn't realized how starved for meaningful contact I'd become, which happened long before you arrived. That's something I'll have to remedy once you leave. Perhaps I'll become a tailor after all – that seems like a social profession.”

His lie worked; Julian relaxed immediately once he mention his immanent departure. “So you _will_ leave here, then.”

“I think so,” Garak said. “But neither of us is going anywhere tonight.” He started to get out of bed. “I'll go sleep on the sofa; you can have the bed.”

Julian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “That's not necessary,” he said. “Just move over a bit.” 

Garak accommodated him. They laid beside each other for several long moments, both on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Finally, Garak rolled on his side toward Julian. When Julian didn't move away, he moved forward until his head was resting on his shoulder. 

“How long have you been with your Elim?” Garak asked quietly. 

“Are you sure this is something you want to talk about?” 

Garak nodded into his shoulder.

Julian let out a long breath while he thought. “A few weeks now, I think?”

“Only that long?” Garak asked, surprised.

“Yes, but we've known each other for about a year.”

“And what changed between the two of you? What made you become lovers?”

“It's a long story. Do you remember how I told you he was a spy? During his years of service, he had a device implanted in his brain to help him resist torture by triggering the release of endorphins. After he was exiled, he started using that device to cope with his unhappiness. The device started to break down; by that point, he'd become addicted to the increased levels of endorphins. He went into painful withdrawal, which I helped him through.”

“You saved him.” 

“I suppose I did.”

“And then he declared his love for you.”

“It wasn't _quite_ that dramatic,” Julian said, smiling. “It changed things between us, though. I suppose he figured I'd seen the worst of him and hadn't run away, so he might as well take a chance and be honest with me about the way he felt. As honest as he'd capable of being, at any rate,” he added.

“But now you've betrayed him by being with me.”

“Not exactly,” Julian said. “We agreed that we wouldn't be sexually exclusive.”

“So you have a lot of lovers?”

Julian laughed a little. “Not really, no. I'm not interested in anyone else.”

“So _he_ has a lot of lovers.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don't understand, then.”

“After we had sex for the first time, he made me promise that I wouldn't limit myself. He wanted to make sure if I met someone else, I felt free to pursue it, since he's sure I'm making the worst mistake of my life by getting into a relationship with him.”

“Why would he say that?”

“I don't think he likes himself very much. When he was ill, he confessed that he'd done some terrible things. I don't how much of it was true.”

“But you forgive him for it. Why?”

“I think he was confused for a long time. I think he was in an organization where terrible things were done as a matter of course. I'm not completely naïve – I'm sure that his hands aren't the cleanest. But – I _know_ him. No matter what he says, I know that he would never hurt someone because he enjoyed it, or go out of his way to do harm to innocent people.”

“What if you found out he did? Would you leave him?”

Julian didn't reply for a long time. “I don't know,” he said finally. 

“Do you love him?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Julian said. “Maybe. It's all been so... _intense_ these past few weeks; I'm still sorting out what it all means. And he's no help – he's so damnably difficult to read sometimes. Although if I'm honest, that is part of the appeal – that I never quite know what to expect from him.”  
Julian turned his gaze from the ceiling to Garak, as if remembering he was there. Their eyes met for a moment before Julian turned away. “And it is beyond strange talking about this with you,” he said, affecting a lighter tone. 

“You deserve better,” Garak said quietly.

“And how do you know that I don't have dark secrets of my own?”

“You?” Garak said with a laugh, but Julian didn't crack a smile. “You must be joking. Someone like you – ”

“You don't know who I am,” Julian said. “That's my point. We've only known one another for a couple of days.”

“I know that there is no one like you in this universe,” Garak said. “Because it's impossible that anyone like you could exist in a place like this.” 

“That's not true. There must be another Julian Bashir running around here somewhere.”

“And I shudder to think of what kind of monster he is, considering the differences between your Kira and Sisko and mine.” 

“But you're not so different from my Elim. Maybe he isn't, either. And maybe I'm the terrible one and he's the wonderful one. You don't know.”

“Now I _know_ you're joking.”

“I only mean that you shouldn't idealize me,” Julian said, smiling. “You'll be fine when I'm gone, I promise.”

They lapsed into silence again, and after a little while, Julian fell asleep. Sleep came much harder for Garak; thoughts kept racing through his head. The other Elim had lied to Julian – continued to lie to Julian – but Julian forgave him. That was promising. He spooned up behind Julian and buried his face against his neck, silently begging for his forgiveness. Because he couldn't let him go. Not ever.


	7. Chapter 7

Garak felt Julian's absence before he even opened his eyes. The bed was cold; it was amazing how accustomed he'd grown to Julian's warmth in so short a time. He reached over to the emptiness beside him for a panicked moment before bolting out of bed.

Julian was sitting at the dining table, sipping a cup of tea and reading a padd. He looked up when Garak entered the room. “Good morning. I was starting to think you weren't getting up.”

Garak tried not to show how relieved he was to find him still there. “What time is it?”

“0800.”

He sat down across from Julian. “I never sleep this late,” he muttered, resting his head on his hand. The initial surge of adrenalin he'd woken up with was fading, leaving him feeling groggy and a little disoriented. 

“You looked comfortable; I didn't want to wake you,” Julian said. “Would you like some tea?”

Garak blinked. “How did you manage the replicator? It's protected by a security code.”

“Oh, I got around it,” he said vaguely as he made his way to the replicator. 

“You...got around it?”

Julian only made a non-committal noise in response. He ordered the tea and handed it to Garak. "Here you are - hope Tarkalean's all right." Garak nodded absently. "I borrowed some clothes,” he added, changing the subject. “Hope you don't mind.”

“Yes, of course.”

Julian sat back down and returned to his tea, allowing Garak a few moments to fully wake up. _He didn't leave,_ Garak thought. He wasn't wearing the restraint, and yet he didn't leave. Surely that counted for something. 

“So I've thought of a plan,” Julian said once Garak had finished his tea. “You should somehow get a message to Major Kira to meet us at Quark's. We can stagger it so we don't arrive at the same time, and then meet up in one of the holosuites. Then we can discuss our next move. What do you think?”

Garak took a few moments to respond. “Yes,” he said hesitantly. “Fine. That would be - fine.” It would most definitely _not_ be fine, but he couldn't think of a reason to deny him. 

Julian smiled. “Excellent. It will have to wait until the evening, I suppose – it would look strange for you to be hauling me off to the holosuites in the middle of the day. I hate waiting around here all day, but I don't have much of choice, really.”

Garak didn't respond. “I should get dressed,” he said, rising from the table. He retreated to the bedroom. His mind raced as he pulled on his clothes. He had the rest of the day to think of a way out of it – hopefully that would be enough. 

He had to go out to the living area to finish getting dressed, as his armor and weapons belt were still in a heap on the floor by the sofa. He felt a brief pang of arousal as he remembered how they ended up there; he quashed it as quickly as he could. He couldn't afford distractions. After he was suited up, he returned to the dining area. He saw the restraining device on the floor by the table where he'd left it. He picked it up. 

“Perhaps you should put this back on,” he said as casually as he could manage. “In case the Intendant comes for you – she can't take you if you're wearing this.”

Julian pressed his lips together. “If she had planned on taking me, why did she send me back to your quarters last night? I think we're safe for the day, at least.”

“You know how volatile she is. She might change her mind.”

“Then I suppose you'll have to come rescue me.”

“But – ”

“I'm not putting that thing back on,” Julian said sharply.

What else could he do? He couldn't force it on him without destroying the rapport they'd built. He tucked it away in a drawer in his bedroom. He emerged from the bedroom again. “I should go,” he said. 

Julian stood up and approached him. “You _are_ going to do this, aren't you?” Julian said. 

“Of course.”

Julian gave him a searching look. Garak tried to look sincere. “All right, then,” Julian said. He gave him a little smile. “You can manage it, I'm sure.”

Garak knew he was probably pushing it, but he leaned in for a kiss. Julian stepped back, avoiding it. He gave Garak a pat on the arm. “Good luck,” he said. 

After Garak was out the door, he walked a little ways down the hall before tapping his comm badge. “Garak to Telok.”

“Sir,” came the reply.

“Do you still have guards stationed at Major Kira's room?”

“No. The Intendant dismissed them last night.”

“Why wasn't I informed?”

“I tried, sir. You weren't responding. I assumed you must have been...busy.”

Was that a touch of insolence in his voice? He decided to ignore it. “I need a guard for my room this morning.”

“To watch the Terran,” Telok said. It wasn't really a question.

“Yes.”

There was a slight pause. “My men have many other duties to attend to,” he said. 

Garak was taken aback. Telok had never been anything buy unquestionably obedient. “I'm sure they do, but I require one to be here. Immediately.”

“Understood,” came the curt reply. 

“And I expect you in my office this morning. Garak out.”

It was a good fifteen minutes before a guard arrived. He was a very young Klingon whom Garak couldn't recall seeing before. 

“Turmal, reporting for duty, sir,” he said.

Garak looked him over. He was barely more than a child. He had unusually large ears and was slightly cross-eyed. “Are you new?”

“Yes, sir. Just arrived yesterday, sir.”

Garak gritted his teeth and tried to repress his annoyance. “You are to guard this door. No one goes in or comes out without my authorization. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” 

Well, at least he seemed enthusiastic. Garak made his way to his office. Once he was there, he sat down at his desk and picked up a padd, scrolling through the notes Odo had left him as he always did. He couldn't concentrate, however, and he still couldn't think of a way around Julian's plan. Julian and Major Kira could not under any circumstances be allowed to speak to one another – she would tell him everything Garak didn't want him to know. Besides, it wasn't as if Kira would agree to meet with him anyway, given how their last encounter went. 

However, he felt sure that Julian wouldn't respond well to any excuses, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that he would not stick around voluntarily for much longer. Julian had a number of unexpected resources: he was clever (how _had_ he bypassed the replicator's security system?); he was determined; and he was brave to the point of foolishness, as the previos night had shown. Garak had no hope of keeping him here without use of excessive force, which would of course ruin things between them. How could he get him to stay of his own free will? Was it even possible?

At first he thought of arranging for an accident for Major Kira, but that spoiled his plans of deposing the Intendant, and as long as the Intendant was around, Julian would be in danger. On the other hand, the threat of the Intendant might be good enough to keep Julian with him, for the time being. He'd been planning on overthrowing the Intendant for a long time now; perhaps he should forget this newest plan and start working on the old ones. 

As he was lost in thought, the chime on his door sounded. 

“Enter.”

Telok stepped into the room and stood at attention in front of Garak's desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes,” Garak said. “I would like a complete report on what your men observed last night. Did the Major have any visitors? Did she leave her quarters at any point?”

“No on both accounts.”

“When were they dismissed?”

“0100, by the Intendant herself. She was not pleased.”

“Did she set up her own guards?”

“No, she insisted that the other Kira was a guest and should not be treated in such a way.”

“Interesting. Thank you, you are dismissed.”

Telok didn't move. “I must speak with you about something.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“Your behavior in the past few days has me concerned.”

Garak looked Telok in the eye, but did not rise from his desk. “And what, pray tell, about my behavior do you find troubling?” he said.

“You know of what I speak: this _Terran._ ” Telok nearly spat the word. “You say that he's a part of your plan to overthrow the Intendant. And yet, last night, you had him on your lap. You were _caressing_ him.”

“All part of a ploy,” Garak said. “The Intendant mustn't expect what we have planned.”

“So you say,” Telok sounded skeptical. “Why do you need a guard for your door?”

“If the Intendant catches whiff of our plan, she'll have him detained. He's too important to the plan for that to happen.” 

“I thought you had him restrained. She wouldn't be able to take him if that were the case.”

“The situation is delicate,” Garak said. “I have to have his trust.”

“So what is this grand plan of yours?” 

“You know all you need to know for now.”

“So this Terran is a pawn to you – nothing more?”

“Of course.”

Telok placed his hands on Garak's desk and leaned forward. “Then why can I smell him all over you?”

 _Curse the Klingon's and their superior sense of smell,_ Garak thought. He slowly rose from his desk and leaned in until they were face to face. “What I chose to do with my prisoner is none of your concern,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I have earned his trust. That's important.” 

“I see. And that must be the reason that when someone tried to touch him last night, you lept to his defense like a father protecting the virtue of his virgin daughter.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Garak said.

“You didn't respond to my call last night. You were late to your duties today. You are letting this Terran _whore_ distract you!”

In the blink of an eye, Garak grabbed Telok by his hair and slammed his head on the desk. Another blink and his knife was at Telok's throat. “This is the last time you will speak to me in such a disrespectful manner. _I_ am your commanding officer, and _I_ will soon control this station. You do not question me. You obey me without hesitation. Do you understand?”

Telok nodded the best he could. Garak released him. He sat down and returned his attention to his padd. “You are dismissed.” 

Telok sneered at him before he turned to leave, but Garak maintained his composure. Inside, he was seething; the last thing he needed was a mutiny. He sighed; it was too bad he'd lost a dependable ally, but he'd cowed him into obedience at least. Klingons respected violence. Telok would behave himself – for now. 

He had just gotten finished settling himself again when he received a summons to the Intendant's chambers. He braced himself and made his way there; whatever she wanted was bound to be unpleasant. 

When Garak arrived, the Intendant was up and pacing around her opulent room. She wasn't yet dressed, still clad in a silk dressing robe. Sisko was there as well, lounging on a sofa. He, too, was not completely dressed, wearing a pair of loose trousers and a breezy silk shirt that he hadn't buttoned. “She's gone,” The Intendant said as soon as Garak entered. “I sent for her an hour ago and she wasn't in her quarters. I have everyone scouring the station, but so far, nothing.”

“The Major, you mean.”

“Of course the Major! Who else would I be talking about?” She glared at him. “Do you know something about it?”

“Only that she was safely tucked away in her chambers last night when my guards were on duty.”

“And what business did you have putting guards on her?”

“Because clearly you didn't have the sense of mind to do it! She is looking to escape, you know.”

“No, she isn't! Or if she is, it's only because you and your Terran slut put ideas into her head. She was perfectly happy until that debacle last night!” 

Garak scoffed. “And now who's being blind?”

The Intendant waved a hand in annoyance. “Oh, shut up. She doesn't have anywhere to go, at least. She's somewhere on this station; it's just a manner of finding her. And then maybe I will assign someone to...show her around. So she doesn't get lost. How about you, Benjamin?”

“Nothing would please me more,” Sisko said in his usual languid manner. Garak caught himself staring at the man's bare chest. Sisko looked up and gave him a wink. It was so surprising that Garak took a half-step backward. Sisko's mouth stretched into a grin briefly. Garak wasn't sure if he was making fun of him, or if they had somehow shared a private joke. 

The Intendant didn't notice the exchange; she was too busy pacing around the room and grumbling. “This is just great. Just what I need. Why do these things always happen to me?”

Just then, the door chimed. 

“Oh, what now?” the Intendant said. “Well, what's taking you so long? Enter!”

Glinn Dukat stepped in the door. “Intendant,” he said. “How glorious you're looking this morning.”

“Skip the ass-kissing – I'm not in the mood,” the Intendant snapped. “What do you want?”

The Glinn cleared his throat. “There's something that I thought should be brought to your attention – just a minor little glitch, really, but better safe than sorry, as I always say.”

“Get on with it.”

“Well.” He paused, gathered up his courage, and continued. “You see, I was on the night shift at docking last night, and we've been having these glitches lately. Nothing major – our sensors go out for a minute or two, but they pop right back on-line, no harm done. I've talked several times with both Odo and the Gul here, but they are both very busy men, which I quite understand...”

“Get to the point, you sniveling ninny.”

“Right,” Dukat said. “As I was saying – it was a quiet night, and we weren't expecting any arrivals or departures. There was a glitch at about 0400. However, this morning I was doing inventory, and it seems that...” He cleared his throat again. “It seem that there's a shuttlecraft missing.”

The Intendant became very still. “A missing shuttlecraft?” she said.

“Yes – a very small one,” he said, as if the size of the vessel somehow made it understandable that it had been lost. “But perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe there was an error in the inventory – ”

The Intendant grabbed whatever object was closest, which turned out to be a hand mirror, and flung it at Dukat's head. He managed to duck it. “An error in inventory? An _error in inventory?_ Odo himself takes all the inventory and he _does not make mistakes!_ Which means someone has escaped! On your watch!” A shoe followed the mirror; this time, she hit her mark. “You incompetent idiot! Out! Get out of my sight before I have you thrown out an airlock!” The Glinn didn't have to be told twice; he sprinted from the room.

The Intendant let out a truly frightening roar of frustration. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck!_ ” she screamed, stamping her feet. “That lousy, ungrateful little bitch – how _dare_ she?” 

She continued ranting, but Garak barely heard her. He tried to keep a straight face, but inside he was ecstatic. _She'd left without him!_ He couldn't have asked for a better outcome. And security would be increased for the forseeable future – there was no possible way that Julian could make an attempt to leave now. Surely he would see that.  
And in the meantime, they would have every night together, every morning...Julian had been reluctant earlier, but now that the circumstances had changed he would be more agreeable, wouldn't he? And he would be devastated by the betrayal of his friend; he would need a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to lean on. He would fall into Garak's sympathetic arms; he would have no choice. He had no one else to turn to. 

The Intendant whipped around to face Garak. “Where's your Terran?”

“Safe in my quarters, as of 0800,” Garak said, not able to keep a bit of smugness out of his voice. “Well before the shuttlecraft vanished. I know a thing or two about keeping prisoners secure.”

The Intendant narrowed her eyes at him. “And what makes you so sure he's still there?”

“I have a guard on the door,” Garak said. He tapped his comm badge. “Garak to Turmal.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is the prisoner still secure?”

He didn't reply right away. “I assume so?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well – the Intendant came to get it about twenty minutes ago, so – ”

“ _What?_ Did I not specifically tell you that no one was to enter or leave that room without my say-so?”

“Yes, but – it was the Intendant. I didn't think she counted in that.”

Garak cut the comm line off with a snarl. 

It was the Intendant's turn to look smug. “Oh yes, you certainly know a thing or two. Maybe, however, if you're going to be second-in-command, you should learn three or four things. Maybe even five.”

Garak glared at her, but she just laughed. “Cheer up, Garak – this is good news! That means neither of them were on that shuttlecraft. That means they're still here, somewhere; it's just a matter of finding them. So get to it – do that thing you do best. Start asking some questions. You may be shit at security, but you are easily the most _persuasive_ person I know.”

“Believe me, I will,” Garak said. He felt sick with anger, and right now, he needed an outlet. He left the Intendant's quarters, his mind already coming up with a suspect list. He felt like his heart was breaking, but he shoved that feeling aside. He didn't know what he would do once he found Julian, but find him he would. _That_ was something he was sure of.

* * * 

Aside from the Major and Julian, there were twenty Terran slaves missing. Over the past year, they'd been having problems with runaways, but it was usually only two or three at a time. This was the largest amount that had ever gone missing at once. Interestingly enough, more than half of the missing Terrans were Quark's girls. It didn't take a master detective to determine there was something odd about that, so Garak had Quark brought in for questioning. 

Garak watched him through the two-way window of the interrogation room. The Ferengi sat calmly, his hands folded on the table in front of him. A little too calmly, as far as Garak was concerned; as long as Garak had known him, Quark had been a nervous little toad, serving his customers with exaggerated deference. Being dragged in for questioning should have made him a quivering puddle of nerves, and yet he seemed composed. Like a man who had given careful thought to what his story was going to be. 

This questioning was only a formality. Garak knew that he was the one who was aiding the Terran's escape. He felt a cold rage as he examined the man. He was the one who made Julian's escape possible. And he was going to pay.

Garak entered the room. He didn't look at Quark at first, instead keeping his attention on his padd. Eventually, he looked up.

“So, Quark,” he said, keeping his tone conversational. “You've had a bit of a rough day, haven't you? So many of your girls, gone without a trace.”

“Yes, it's a great inconvenience,” he said. “My profits will take a beating this week.”

“You don't seem too upset by that.”

“Of course I'm upset,” he said. “But there's no sense in losing my head over it. I run a very profitable business; the girls I lost are easily replaced. Some of them were getting too old, anyway.” He gave Garak a smile; with all of those pointy teeth, it was a gruesome sight. “Perhaps I'll get a couple of boys this time around as well.”

If he thought he would win points with Garak with that little line, he was sorely mistaken. “Surely it bothers you that they were plotting an escape right under your nose,” he continued. 

“I was too lenient, it's true. I'll be more careful in the future.” 

“I'm curious – why didn't you report them missing right away? The shuttlecraft left at around 0400, and yet we were the ones who had to tell you they were gone.”

“I let my girls sleep in,” Quark said. “They work late nights. And truth be told, I sleep late, too. There's not much to do in the mornings.” He stood up. “Are we finished here? I have a lot to do if I want to get my business up and running again.”

“Just a few more questions,” Garak said. “Have a seat, please.”

He sank reluctantly to his chair. Garak turned his attention back to his padd and scrolled through it. “I took the liberty of looking through some of your shipments for the past six months. I hope you don't mind.”

The Ferengi shrugged, but Garak noticed that he had started to sweat a little. “I don't see how that relates to the matter at hand, but if it pleases you. I have nothing to hide.”

“I see a lot of shipments for food – for the restaurant portion of your business, I imagine.”

“Naturally. People come to Quark's for a taste of the exotic that can't be provided by the replicators.”

“But among the shipments are several large orders for field rations. That seems strange – why would a restaurant need field rations?”

It took Quark a moment to respond. “This station never struck me as particularly stable. Something could go wrong. What if there's a problem with the replicators? I'm a businessman, as I've said – I like to prepare for all eventualities. A station without access to replicators, with me controlling the only source of nourishment? That would be extremely profitable.” 

“I see.” Garak returned his attention to the padd. He wasn't really reading it anymore, but he let Quark stew for several minutes. “I also see orders for clothing.”

“For my girls. I have to keep them well-dressed. It's good for business.”

“Yes, I see in the inventory many fine dresses. But you also ordered other kinds of clothing – quite plain, more suited to workers.”

“My girls do have off hours, you know.”

“Do they spend them in men's trousers?”

Quark said nothing in response. Garak continued. “Were you aware that we've been having a runaway problem? Every few weeks, a couple of our Terran workers go missing. We think they're stowing away on ships leaving the station.”

“I'd heard rumors. Didn't have a lot to do with me so I never gave them much thought.”

“It's been very vexing. Often, those slaves will disappear days before any ship comes into port, which means they have to be hiding somewhere in the station. But where could they be hiding?”

Quark swallowed. “I wouldn't know.”

“Do you know what I think?” Garak asked. Quark shook his head. “I think that _you_ are the one helping these Terrans get away.”

Quark did not deny it. He also didn't confess. He said nothing at all, staring straight at the wall in front of him. 

Garak gave an elaborate sigh. “We are going to need to talk about this, Quark. Would you care to start? Perhaps get something off your chest?”

Quark continued to say nothing. 

“Then I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way.”

* * * 

Garak worked on Quark on and off for the rest of the day, hitting him hard and then leaving him to stew in his misery before hitting him hard again. He was proving surprisingly difficult to break, but no matter. He would break eventually. They always did.

He returned after dinner and took a survery of the Ferengi's condition; he was a sorry sight. Garak had beaten his face first – he was curious if it were possible to make it uglier. It turned out it was. His nose had swollen even larger than normal. He'd lost several of his sharp little teeth. One of his lobes was torn. He had screamed mightily when Garak had sliced it with his knife; Garak had always heard that the lobes of Ferengi's were especially sensitive. 

Garak had bolted his hands to the table after that. They were almost completely ruined at this point. He didn't bother greeting him again as he entered the room. He simply walked over and snapped the last of the his fingers. Quark didn't have much energy left to scream, but he gave it his best effort. “Stop,” he pleaded. “please, stop...”

“I would love to stop,” Garak said. “Believe me, I would. But you keep insisting that you know nothing. Now we both know that's not true, is it?”

The Ferengi's head lolled forward. Garak gave him a light slap on the face. “No passing out now, Quark. We haven't finished our conversation. And quite frankly, I'm getting a little annoyed that you're wasting my time.”

The Ferengi looked at him through his swollen eyes. “Time,” he said. “Yes, the time...what is the time?”

Garak didn't see any reason not to answer. “Around 1700, I think.”

The Ferengi started to laugh weakly. “Then you're too late! They're gone – gone for good.”

“Who's gone?”

“My girls,” he slurred. It was hard to understand him; maybe Garak shouldn't have hit him around the mouth so much, but knocking out those disgusting pointy teeth had been too tempting. “They took the shuttlecraft, met one of my suppliers...and now they're light-years away. And you'll never be able to find them.” He laughed again. A little blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“You're wrong,” Garak lied. “I just heard – the ship was captured. Your girls are being brought back here as we speak.”

At that, Quark began to howl. It was one of the worst sounds Garak had ever heard – high-pitched and grating. He clapped his hands over his ears. “Stop it!” he shouted, but Quark only wailed louder. Garak grabbed him by the shoulder with one hand and slapped him with the other. “Stop it and listen – their lives can be spared, but you must _listen_.”

Quark stopped his wailing, but he continued to sob pitifully, his shoulders slumped and his head sagging in defeat. It was what Garak had been waiting for; the man was officially broken. He put a hand on Quark's chin and lifted it until he could look him in the eye. “Shhh,” he said kindly. “Stop crying. It's all right. It's over now – I won't hurt you anymore. You've been very brave – ”

“No,” Quark said, laughing again. “No, I haven't. I'm a coward, always a coward for all these years, watching what they did to them – to my girls. Every night what they did to them, how they suffered and I did nothing. Patched them up and sent them back. Closed my door so I couldn't hear them cry. My girls, my girls...” His face was wet with tears and blood.

“There, there,” Garak said. “It's all right.”

But Quark was somewhere else now, a dreamy look on his ruined face. “Katy was so clever – things were always breaking and we never got any help. It didn't matter, though – she could fix anything if she put her mind to it. And Jodie could cook – she learned it as a slave for some Bajorn businessman; he squandered everything and sold her to pay some gambling debt. She was only fourteen. I didn't know that when I bought her, I swear it. And Keiko – oh Keiko.” He closed his eyes. “She was my favorite. She always kept something green around – I don't know how she kept anything alive in this hell hole, but she always managed. She's going to have a baby. She says it's with another Terran, although I don't know how she knows. She says she'll name it after me if it's a boy.” He laughed again. “I hope it's a girl.”

“You just wanted to help them,” Garak said soothingly. “And you can help them again now. Just tell me what you know about the ones from the other universe – Julian and Major Kira. They came to you for help, didn't they?” 

Even at this point, Quark paused before answering. “Yes,” he said finally. “Kira came to me.”

“She was too late for the shuttlecraft, wasn't she?”

“Yes, it had already left.”

“But you told her you would help her.”

Quark nodded. 

“How?”

“I gave her field rations, some clothes that would help her blend in. There's a hidden room along the maintenance shafts in the habitat ring. I keep extra supplies there. I told her they could hide there until I could arrange for them to get away...” He started to weep again. “Is that enough to save my girls?”

“Yes,” Garak said. “Yes, that will do.” 

Garak turned to leave, but just before he went through the door, Quark spoke again. “Will you kill him?” 

Garak turned around, surprised. “What?”

“I just want to know,” Quark said, his voice still slurred and raw from screaming. “Do you plan to kill him?”

Garak paused. “No,” he said. 

“Then why don't you just let him go?”

“That's a rather impertinent question.”

Quark laughed weakly. “What do I have to lose? I know I'm a dead man. If you care about him, you will let him go. He will never love you, not after this. You know that.”

Garak didn't know what to say. He left the room without a backward glance. He ordered an underling to have Quark cleaned up and locked in a holding cell. As an afterthought, he ordered some medical care for him as well. The Intendant would most likely order him executed, but not until they found their runaways. 

Garak should have been pleased. He'd won. He'd broken the man who had stolen his Julian, and now it was only a matter of time before Julian was back where he belonged. But that toad was right – Julian would hate him for this. He already hated him; Garak could only imagine what sort of poisonous truths the other Kira had told him to make him flee so quickly. Things would never be the same. 

Still, it didn't matter. No matter how much Julian loathed him, it was better than him disappearing forever. He would still be his. That would have to be enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that I wasn't sure how to warn for. No non-con, but it gets intense in a way that might be triggering.

Four days went by, and they still hadn't found Julian or Major Kira. They discovered Quark's secret room easily, but it was empty by the time they got there. Garak took the lead on the search at first, but by the third day he reluctantly turned the task over to Odo. He really ought to have been in charge from the beginning, but the desperation Garak felt needed an outlet. He barely ate or rested, spending all of his time scouring maps of the station for maintenance and ventilation shafts and other possible hiding places, but the station was enormous and difficult to navigate. There was an infestation of Cardassian voles that made tracing life signs tricky, and he did not have unlimited resources. The Klingons basically refused to help with the search; Telok sent his most incompetent men who had clearly been given instructions to be as uncooperative as possible while still technically taking orders. 

The Intendant had taken a maddeningly laissez-faire attitude towards the whole business. She forbade any ship from leaving the station, but other than that, made no overt attempts to recover them. “They're not going anywhere,” she pointed out when Garak challenged her on the matter. “Let them run around the walls for awhile. They'll get tired of it eventually.”

There was also no attempt to recover the missing slaves. Allowing Terrans to escape made the Intendant look bad with her government and she knew it, so instead, she wrote them off as deaths. That also made her look bad, but it was better to look too brutal rather than incompetent. No one particularly cared, anyway, as long as the ore shipments were made on time. And the shipments were always on time. Whatever her faults might be, the Intendant always managed to deliver what was asked of her, which is why she was given such free reign of her sad little kingdom. 

This did not mean, however, that the escapes had no consequences. The Intendant made sure that the remaining Terrans paid dearly for their comrades' escapes. She cut their rations and instituted random tortures. That normally would have pleased him, but Garak suddenly had no appetite for torture. After his interrogation of Quark, he felt strangely deflated. The sense of power and control he used to feel had evaporated. It made no sense – he had won, hadn't he? He'd gotten the information he'd wanted, even if it hadn't led to Julian's capture. But the victory had felt empty. Besides, he found he could no longer look at Terrans without seeing Julian reflected in their faces. He pawned the whole project off to a miserable Dukat, and retreated to his quarters. 

Taking time away from his work proved equally unbearable. He spent an entire day in his quarters obsessing over the things Julian had left behind. There wasn't very much: the uniform he'd arrived in; the hated collar and golden trousers; the untouched box of chocolates; and lastly, the teacup that he'd left on the table before his escape. Still, it was evidence that he had been there, and Garak clung to it. That night, he buried his face in the still unwashed pillow Julian's head had once laid upon, and held the uniform in his arms like a child with a blanket. 

He made two cups of Tarkalean tea in the morning, and broke his fast with one of the chocolates that Julian hadn't eaten. He didn't like the taste, but since he imagined Julian would, he ate another one. As he watched the steam gradually dissipate from Julian's cup, he considered the possibility that he was losing his mind. If he hadn't already, it seemed likely that he would in the near future if he didn't do something differently. He couldn't work, but he couldn't hole up in his quarters alone, either.

Which is how, on the fifth day, he found himself in the Intendant's quarters, watching her bathe. Or not bathe, exactly – she sat in her enormous tub, bubbles thankfully blocking the view of her body, and stewed, for lack of a better word.

“You know what our problem is, Elim?” she said as a Vulcan slave massaged her temples. He was Elim now, apparently. “We're too nice.”

Garak grunted; he had his own Vulcan masseur working on a knot in his shoulder. He was sitting across from a giant mirror – he would have sat elsewhere, but there were mirrors everywhere. As a result, there was nowhere he could direct his gaze – not at the Intendant, certainly, and he didn't care to look at himself either. 

“When this runaway problem started, I _could_ have really come down hard on the Terrans,” she continued. “But I said to myself, 'Nerys – these are your little worker bees, and you are their Queen, and Queens have to look after their servants.' And so I kept the interrogations only to those I suspected of having involvement in the escapes. I tried positive incentives, offering rewards to Terrans who came forward with information. I didn't enact any punishments on the population as a whole. And what thanks do I get? They just get bolder! Twenty gone! Don't they realize how this makes me look? Well, they're certainly regretting it now, aren't they? Serves them right.”

The Intendant waved her masseur away and stood up from the tub. Garak averted his eyes as two other Vulcan servants dried her and presented her with a robe. She sat down beside him, either not noticing his discomfort or not caring.

“So, let's talk. Is there a particular reason you came to see me this morning?” When he didn't respond, she continued. “I hear that you've decided to take some time off.” She held up her hand before he could say anything. “I'm not asking for excuses – I, myself, am a fan of delegation. It just seems a bit uncharacteristic of you.” 

“It is, isn't it?” he said, more to himself than her.

“You know what I think? I think you've been doing some soul-searching, and I think you came to me this morning because you've realized something. And I've realized it, too.” She put a hand on his leg. “I've been searching all these years for someone who truly understands me – who knows the pressures of power, and the loneliness it creates. And all along, it was you. Maybe that's why we could never get along – we're just too much alike! We both have tender hearts under our tough facades.”

Garak didn't know what to say to that. Fortunately, the Intendant didn't seem to mind. “I think our silly feud has been going on long enough, don't you? Think of how much we could accomplish if we just stopped trying to kill each other all the time. The two of us, united, working together – it could be a great thing, Elim. Just think about it.” She gave his leg a pat. “And stop worrying so much about our pets. This is all for the best, if you think about it. They obviously needed to get this out of their systems, and when they do come back to us – and believe me, they will – they will realize how futile any effort to escape is. They will have broken their own spirits, and that's a lesson that will stay with them.” 

Garak let his eyes drift upward until he was looking at the reflection of the two of them, sitting side by side. The Intendant followed his gaze and smiled at the mirror before looking back at him. “I know what will cheer you up! Let's pick out some outfits for them.”

Fortunately, the door chimed, saving Garak from having to form a response. “That should be Benjamin,” the Intendant said, standing up. “Enter!” 

Sisko stepped in the door. The Intendant walked over to him and draped her arms around his neck. “You wanted to see me?” she purred.

He didn't return her embrace. “How long do you plan to keep us here?”

Then Intendant removed her arms. “Why, Benjamin,” she said. “I'm starting to think you're eager to leave me.”

Sisko simply stared at her, expressionless. She scowled. “Until Julian and my Nierys have been found, no one leaves,” she said.

“Surely you don't suspect me of harboring escapees,” Sisko said. There was a nastiness to his tone that surprised Garak – not the fact that he would be contemptuous of her, but the fact that he would so blatantly display it. 

“You? My loyal and true friend?” she responded with saccharine viciousness of her own. “Perish the thought! But I'm sure you understand how recent events have made me just a teensy bit more suspicious than usual.” She walked over to her private bar and poured herself a drink. “Do you want anything?” she said to Garak. Given that it was 1030, he declined.

“And how long do you expect that to be?” Sisko said.

The Intendant shrugged. “Soon. Eventually, anyway. What's your hurry?”

“My men are getting restless.”

“So? Just let them blow of some steam at Quark's.” She paused. “Oh. Right. Not exactly a possibility anymore, is it?”

“ _I'm_ getting restless.”

She gave him a long, hard look, then grabbed her combadge from her dresser and tapped it twice. “Good morning, everyone. This is your Intendant speaking. I don't mean to interrupt you when you're all hard at work, but I need to get the attention of two errant wretches who have made themselves very difficult to get ahold of. I'm sure you've all heard the rumors about the two visitors from the other dimension – yes, they did attempt to leave us, but we have reason to believe they are still here, in hiding. And I'd like to have a word with them right now, if you all will permit me: Julian, Nierys – please give up your foolish attempts at escape. It's been five days now – how much longer do you think you can keep it up? I promise that we're not _too_ angry, so come home, please, and all will be forgiven. And if you don't – well, for every hour you remain missing, I'll have someone executed. We'll be waiting for you in my office. The clock starts now. Hope to see you soon, dears!” She tapped her badge again, cutting off the signal. “There,” she said to Benjamin. “Are you happy now?”

He bared his teeth. “Ecstatic.” He turned and stormed out, but right before he left, he shared a look with Garak. Once again, Garak had the feeling that he was trying to communicate something, but then he was gone. Perhaps he had imagined it. 

The Intendant let out an annoyed sigh. “There's no pleasing some people. Oh well, he'll get over it.” She walked over to her closet. “So, about those outfits – I'm thinking something sheer.”

“I should go,” Garak said. 

“Why?” she said with a pout.

“Because I need to prepare for those executions you just ordered,” Garak snapped. 

The Intendant rolled her eyes. “No one is getting executed. Our pets are much too noble to let that happen. I think it would have been better if it was their own decision, but _some_ people lack patience.” She waved at him dismissively. “But go if you want to go. I'll see you in my office in about an hour – I'll have Odo keep an eye out for them in case they come to their senses sooner than expected, but I have a feeling they're going to wait to the last minute.”

Garak stepped out into the hallway and started to head to Ops, but on an impulse, he turned and headed off in the direction of the docks. He met Sisko just as he was about to get on a turbo lift. Without a word, they boarded the lift together. Once they were on their way, Garak asked, with hesitation, “May I ask you a question?”

Sisko inclined his head. “I was unaware you were in the habit of asking permission to ask questions, but by all means.”

“How did you and the Intendant come to your...arrangement?” 

“I had recently been sold to this station – I was a problem slave, you see. My master couldn't wait to see me off. The Intendant was making her rounds and commented on my shoddy workmanship. I told her that my true talents lay elsewhere, and if she wanted to see me demonstrate them, she should invite me back to her quarters.”

Garak was astonished. “Weren't you frightened she would have you beaten? Or worse?”

Sisko shrugged. “I've been beaten on a regular basis since I was a child – that particular threat has not been motivating for a long time. And as to worse – things couldn't get any worse. Threats of death are also not particularly effective, for a slave.”

“But she didn't have you beaten.”

“No. She took me up on it, and it turns out she agreed with my assessment.”

“So how did you manage to get her to give you a ship?”

“She likes me. She trusts me. And I think having me around all the time bored her. It excites her when I've been gone for awhile – makes things fresh. You know how our Intendant hates being bored.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. “And how do you feel about her?” he finally asked. 

Sisko turned and looked Garak directly in the eye. “I hate her,” he said. “With every fiber of my being.”

The turbo lift stopped. Sisko walked out the door without a backward glance. 

Garak made his way to the Intendant's office after that. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. He wasn't sure how to feel. He was eager to get Julian back, of course, but he knew things wouldn't be the same. Julian would hate him, most likely – at least for now. But perhaps this was all for the best, in a way. He no longer had to worry about hiding the truth from him, and now that Major Kira was out of favor with the Intendant, he wouldn't have to be concerned with her interfering. And hadn't Julian forgiven the other Elim for his transgressions? If he could show Julian that he was a changed man, he would come around. He had to. 

The Intendant arrived forty-five minutes later, dressed in her full regalia. She positioned herself at the chair behind her desk like a queen on her throne, belying none of the anxiety that Garak felt. As she had predicted, it was to the hour almost exactly before Julian and Major Kira arrived, handcuffed and escorted by Odo. They both looked much worse for wear, filthy and covered in scrapes and bruises. Julian had a black eye and a nasty cut on his hand. 

“There you are, you naughty little minxes,” the Intendant said. “I hope you've learned your lesson.” The Intendant didn't even rise from her chair, as if their disappearance had only been a minor nuisance. Garak was confused by her casual approach at first, but now he saw that treating them like misbehaving children took a lot of the power from their escape attempt. She really was unparalleled in her ability to manipulate. 

“I suppose some sort of punishment is in order,” she continued. “You shall be locked up until I think of what to do with you, my Nierys. And as for you, Julian – well, I leave your fate to the Gul's discretion. I really don't envy you.” The Intendant picked up a padd and started to read. “You are all dismissed.”

Odo led Major Kira away. Garak approached Julian, who refused to look at him. He flinched when Garak put a hand on his arm, even though Garak was being gentle. He reminded himself to be patient. Julian didn't put up any fight as they walked back to Garak's quarters, but once they arrived, he stopped short when they reached his door. Garak put a hand on the small of his back to encourage him forward. He stopped again at the bedroom door; this time, Garak had to give him a shove. 

“Sit on the bed,” Garak said. 

Julian reluctantly did as he was instructed while Garak pulled out the restraining device from the dresser. He set the proximity at the minimum distance and knelt in front of Julian to attach it to his ankle, then removed his handcuffs and set them on the bedside table. He then went to the washroom to retrieve his medical kit. He sat down beside him, examining his injuries for a moment. He decided to start with the one on his hand, but Julian jerked back when he tried to touch him.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” said Garak.

“And you've proven yourself to be so trustworthy.” The loathing in his voice broke Garak's heart.

Instead of responding, he grabbed Julian's hand and held it firmly. He ran the medical device over the cut and soon it disappeared. If only the more abstract hurts could be as easily healed. He put a hand on Julian's chin to hold him still so he could fix his black eye, but Julian jerked back again. “Hold still,” Garak said. “I only want to heal your wounds.” 

“Why? Because seeing a Terran in pain grieves you, since you're such a sensitive soul?” Julian laughed humorouslessly. “You must have had a good laugh when I bought that lie.”

“I would never laugh at you.”

“Why not? I had a good laugh at myself when Kira told me what you were really like. I've heard all about what you've done to these people.”

There was no sense in denying it. “But I've treated you well, haven't I?”

Julian stared at him. “Are you joking? Manipulating me to get me to sleep with you is 'treating me well?' Referring to me as _'a consolation prize?'_ ”

“I didn't mean – that was poorly worded.”

“ _Poorly worded?_ Then what would have been a better way to put it – the grand prize? A spoil of war?” When Garak didn't answer, Julian continued. “Would you have stopped if I had said no the other night? No, never mind,” Julian said before he could respond. “I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth. And to think I felt sorry for you.”

“I don't want your pity,” Garak said, anger creeping into his own voice. 

“Then what is it you want? What do you think is going to happen now? That you'll keep me locked up here and I'll somehow change my mind and throw myself into your arms? Because that will never happen. I could never feel anything other than contempt for someone like you!”

“And what about your Elim?” Garak demanded. He stood up so that he was towering over Julian. “He lies to you – you told me yourself. Why am I different?”

Julian stood as well, meeting him eye to eye. “My Elim told me lies to scare me away, not to make himself look better. He still tries to warn me off of him, because he cares about my well-being more than he cares about his own.”

“And what of the terrible things he's done? You don't even know what they are, and yet you forgive him.”

“My Elim may have done terrible things, but it was because he believed it was for the greater good. However much I might not understand his devotion, and however much I might disagree with his methods, everything he did he believed was in the best interests of his planet and of his fellow citizens. What do you believe in? Do you care about anything other than your own selfish pleasure?”

“I care about you,” Garak said, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

“Then let me go! I can't live like this – it will kill me!” Garak turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “Elim – please. _Please!_ ”

Garak wanted to cover his ears to block the sound of Julian's pleas. Instead, he just shook his head. “I can't.”

There was a beat of silence. Garak turned to look at Julian once more. His eyes were widened but unfocused, his jaw slack, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, like the terror of it was too much. Garak wanted to reach out to him, to try to make him understand, but what could he say? 

He put a hand on Julian's shoulder; Julian shook it off, his expression shifting from despair to cold fury. “There's another difference between you and my Elim,” Julian said. “He'd never have to chain me to a bed in order to fuck me.”

Garak hit him – an open palmed slap to his face, right over his already blackened eye. Julian fell back to the bed with a shout of pain. Julian put a hand to his cheek. His gaze felt like a burn on Garak's own face. “Now tell me again how much you care about me,” Julian said. 

And just like that, Garak knew that he'd lost him forever. What's more, he'd lost his other self, too – the man who existed when he was with Julian, a man whom he thought he might become. A fury of his own started to rise in Garak's chest. Julian saw him as a monster; he might as well play the part. He turned and left the room, ignoring Julian's calls asking where he was going. Garak went to the main refining area and found Odo. 

“Where's O'Brien?” he said. “The blond Terran – the one who fixes things?” 

The look on his face must have been fierce, because Odo didn't bother to ask why he wanted him. He pointed the Terran out; Garak strode over and grabbed him by the arm. 

“I need you to come with me,” he said. The Terran looked surprised, but obeyed without question. 

They soon reached Garak's quarters. Garak pushed the Terran back towards the bedroom. Julian's eyes widened when he saw him. He jumped to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“This is the one, isn't it? The one who you are friends with on the other side?”

“Elim,” Julian said in a steady voice, as if he were addressing a maniac. “This is between you and me – he has nothing to do with it. Send him back, and we can talk, all right? Just you and me.”

“You said you don't believe anything I say,” Garak said. “So I thought that perhaps you would believe him.” He pushed O'Brien on the shoulders until he knelt. “I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer honestly. Do you understand?”

O'Brien still seemed confused, but he nodded. 

“Good.” Garak took a moment to breathe. He clasped his hands behind his back, as he often did during an interrogation. He felt in control again. “What is the worst thing that you've heard I've done?

“I – I don't know, sir.”

Garak took the knife from his belt and pressed it to the side of O'Brien's face. “Answer or I'll cut off your ear.”

“Don't!” Julian shouted. “Stop this right now!”

“Shut up,” Garak said. He put a little pressure on the knife, causing a drop of blood to roll down O'Brien's neck. “Well? I'm waiting.”

“There was a man once – you said you didn't like the way he was looking at you, so you had his eye cut out.”

Garak nodded. “Yes, I remember that. He would have been a trouble-maker; I'm good at sensing that. Best to get him in line early. What else?”

“There were two Terrans who were friendly with each other – you accused them of conspiring to do something, I was never sure what. You had them executed.” O'Brien paused. “They weren't, you know. They were just friends.”

“I'm sure they were guilty,” Garak said. “Or they would have been guilty. What else?”

“There was a woman – she was pregnant. You worked her so hard she miscarried, and then you told her it was for the best because you would have killed the baby anyway.”

“No,” Garak said. “Not quite correct – I told her the baby would have been taken from her. Which it would have – can you imagine, a baby here?”

Julian had sunk back to the bed, where he sat with a hand over his mouth. He was shaking. 

“Why do you think I do these things?” Garak continued.

“I don't know, sir.”

“Is it, perhaps, because I'm trying to keep order?”

“I suppose so, sir.”

“You sound skeptical. What do you really think? Come now, be honest. That's why I asked you here.”

Amazingly, O'Brien lifted his gaze until he was looking directly at Garak. “I think it's because you enjoy it. Sir.”

“What is the point of this?” Julian said. “Is it to frighten me? To show me how much you're going to enjoy hurting me?”

“Oh no,” Garak said. He put his knife back in its sheath and sat down beside Julian. He put a hand on his chin and lifted his face upward. “No, you misunderstand me. I will never lay a violent hand on you again. But as you can see, you were right about me. I am a terrible person, and I do horrific things. But you, Julian – my brave, noble Julian – you care about the plight of others, don't you? And you would do anything you could to mitigate their suffering? Because every time you try to escape, or otherwise displease me in any way, _they_ are the ones who will suffer. Do you understand me?”

Julian nodded as best he could with Garak's hand still on his chin, but Garak didn't release him. “I want to hear you say it. Say yes.”

“Yes,” Julian said. “I understand.”

Garak released him and stood up. “You can go now,” he said to O'Brien. O'Brien got to his feet, but before he left, Garak added, “Thank you. You've been very useful. Perhaps – perhaps we can look into getting you some better living quarters. And more rations. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” O'Brien said flatly. 

Garak looked out of the side of his eye to see what Julian thought of that, but Julian was staring dully at the floor in front of him, seeming oblivious to what was happening. 

Once O'Brien left, Garak paced around the room for several long moments, still filled with terrible energy, unsure of what to do next. He finally picked up the med kit and sat beside Julian again. This time, Julian didn't resist.

The wound on his face was soon healed, like it had never happened. “There,” he said. “That's better, isn't it?” He wasn't surprised when Julian didn't respond. “I didn't want to be so...forceful, but you're being stubborn. You're lucky I got to you when you first got here – you'd probably be dead by now if you weren't under my protection. I know things are different where you're from, but the Intendant is right – you need to get used to your new situation. And things won't be as bad as you think. I can make things better – for you, for everyone – just as long as you stop fighting me.” He wiped a smudge of dirt from Julian's cheek. “And when the Intendant's gone – and mark my words, I _will_ get rid of her – things will be even better. I can get you anything you want, anything at all. You will be happy here, you'll see.”

Julian finally turned to look at him. “So do you want me on my back or on my knees tonight?” 

Garak fought the urge to hit him again. Instead, he knelt to readjust the distance on the restraint. “Get cleaned up.” 

Julian disappeared into the washroom. Garak stared at the floor as he listened to the water run. He thought suddenly of Katy, Dukat's whore, and of her vacant stare. He thought of all of Quark's girls, their fake smiles and dead eyes. He thought of Sisko, caressing the Intendant and whispering sweetly in her ear while wishing her dead. 

This wasn't what he wanted. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Before Julian could emerge from the washroom, he left the bedroom, left his quarters, left all of it behind.


	9. Chapter 9

For lack of a better place to go, Garak went to his office. He locked the door and sat at his desk. He stared into space for a long time, his mind too tumultuous to think clearly. A memory came to him suddenly: when he was eight years old, his mother got work as a maid for a Cardassian businessman. He'd gone along with her to the man's manor one day with firm instructions to stay out of trouble. He'd meant to be good, but then he saw it: a crystal figurine of an exotic bird. It was exquisitely beautiful, the way its delicate glass wings reflected rainbows of light along the wall – he knew as soon as he saw it that he had to have it. He snatched it and went to put it in his pocket, but he gripped it too tightly and it shattered. His hand still bore the scars.

He rested his head on the desk and shut his eyes. The terrible irony of the whole situation was that he'd never been aware about how unhappy his life was before Julian arrived. He had taken all of the misery for granted because he'd never known anything else. Julian had changed that. For the briefest of moments, he'd known what joy felt like. 

He wasn't sure quite how long he sat there. He could not go back to his old life – that much was clear. Eventually, he stood up and left, heading towards the docks. He couldn't think too hard about what he was about to do, or else he might talk himself out of it. 

Sisko's ship was still there, although his crew was preparing it for departure. Garak didn't see Sisko at first, but after a few minutes, he emerged from the ship. “Is there something I can do for you?” Sisko asked.

“I'd like to speak to you,” Garak said. “In private.”

Sisko inclined his head. “By all means,” he said. “We can speak in my office.”

His “office” was also obviously his quarters, but he made good use of the small space. Everything was surprisingly orderly, considering Sisko's turbulant nature. Sisko sat at his chair, forcing Garak to take a seat on his bunk. “What can I do for you?”

Garak took a deep breath. “How much would it cost for you to smuggle someone off this station?”

“Just one someone?”

Garak nodded. 

Sisko leaned back in his chair. “And what will become of you if I were to smuggle this person away? I hear there are stiff penalties for helping a Terran escape.”

“I plan to resign, effective immediately.”

Sisko raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.” He steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips as he thought about it. “It would cost you nothing. Not in latinum, at least.”

“What would you want in return, then?”

“I would very much like to see this station destroyed,” Sisko said. “And I would like your help.”

“Destroyed?” Garak said, surprised. 

“You said you were leaving. Don't tell me you have a fondness for this place.”

“Leaving, yes. But that would be treason.”

“Do you care?”

He didn't, Garak realized. “You would kill everyone on board?”

“Some people, yes. But not everyone.”

“I assume you mean your fellow Terrans. How are you planning on getting them to safety?”

“There are about two hundred slaves aboard this station. In two days time, a cargo ship will arrive to pick up this month's supply of refined ore. Those ships have a light crew, but they are still quite large – big enough to hold at least seventy-five people. My own ship can probably handle another thirty. And as luck would have it, a friend of mine and her two ships will be passing this way. Refined ore is a valuable commodity; I'm sure she can be persuaded to give us a hand in exchange for some of the profit. She could handle the rest. Besides, she has a terrific sense of humor – this plan will appeal to her.”

“And what is your plan?”

“With your help, we will cause this station to self-destruct. You do know the codes, don't you?”

“Of course I do. But it won't work – both myself _and_ the Intendant must set the codes off together, and the sensors perform a DNA scan to verify our identities.”

“If only we had someone with both the Intendant's DNA and different priorities,” Sisko said wryly. 

“Oh,” Garak said, feeling stupid. “How do you plan to get your friend's ships close enough to beam the Terrans aboard?”

“My friend has cloaking capabilities. And the shields of this station will be down, because you will put them down.”

“How do you plan to take control of the cargo ship?”

“Like I said, they are generally lightly manned. I'm sure my men could seize it, especially in the confusion of a self-destruction.”

“What about the crew of this station?”

“They will be panicked. I suspect most of them will be more concerned with getting themselves off of the station than they will be at stopping us.” 

“And what about the Intendant?” Garak asked lastly. 

Sisko paused before answering. “I will take care of her,” he said at last. 

Garak let it all sink in for a moment. “You're taking an awfully big risk telling me all of this. What makes you think that I would risk everything for the slaves I have oppressed for years?”

“When your life depends on the whims of your masters, you become very good at assessing their moods and motivations,” Sisko said. “I have been watching you the past few days, and I've determined two things: firstly, you are a man in love. And your request for your love's freedom proves my second assessment – you have nothing left to lose.” Sisko smiled. “We have that in common. I will either see this station destroyed, or die in the effort. Either way, I will no longer be a slave.”

Garak took a few more moments to think. “This is insane,” he said.

“But you'll do it,” Sisko said. “Won't you.” It wasn't even a question.

Garak couldn't quite bring himself to speak his assent, but he nodded. Sisko smiled. “Excellent.” He stood up; Garak did as well. “I will remain here with my men, preparing. We'll spread the word amongst the Terrans.”

“Won't the Intendant be suspicious? You were so eager to leave earlier.”

“Alas, our ship is in need of repair. It is a clunky old thing, after all.” 

“And what will I be doing?”

“After the cargo ship arrives, I will contact you. You will retrieve Major Kira while I deal with the Intendant. I will meet you back in your quarters; we will disguise the Major in the Intendant's clothing and make our way to Ops. Can you think of a way to get the Terrans in one area right before we begin the self-destruct sequence, to make beaming them away easier?”

Garak thought for a moment. “We've been having a vole infestation problem,” he said. “That could give me an excuse to sequester everyone while we fumigate. I can put the Terrans in one area, and the crew in another.”

“Excellent,” Sisko said. “You will also need to make sure the shields are down. And, I imagine, you'll want to secure your own escape. I do appreciate your help, but I can't imagine being aboard a ship full of the Terrans you've tormented for years will be good for your health.” 

Garak nodded again. Sisko thrust his hand towards him. It took Garak a moment to realize what he was doing – he was offering a handshake, an old Terran custom. Garak took his hand; Sisko's grip was cool and firm. 

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Sisko said. 

Garak left. He couldn't believe he was going through with this. Two days. It was a crazy plan, but he was long past sanity, anyway.

* * * 

He found that he couldn't face Julian quite yet, so he sent a Terran to bring Julian food and water and spent the night in his office. Quark's had been well picked-over by that point, but he still managed to find a few bottles of a cheap alcoholic beverage of some kind. He'd only meant to have a few drinks to ease some of his tension, but he ended up getting smashingly drunk. He was rudely awoken the next day by the incessant ringing of the door chime, which gradually gave way to someone banging on the door. “Elim! _Elim!_ Are you in there?” 

Only two people called him Elim, and the voice was female. He sighed and opened the door.

“There you are,” the Intendant said. “I was starting to think you were dead. I went by your quarters and Julian said he hadn't seen you all night.” She wrinkled her nose. “Have you been drinking?” 

“Did you want something, or are you just here to nag me?”

She made a face. “Good morning to you, too. I've decided that my Nierys could use a few sessions with you to get her in line. I'll give you a few minutes to freshen up, and then we'll see you in one of the interrogation rooms, all right?” She turned to leave.

“No,” Garak said. 

She whipped back around. “What?”

“I said no.”

“Why not? Are you too busy crying into your kanar about how Julian doesn't love you? That's really too pathetic, Elim. I say that as a friend.”

“She's not a disobedient Terran miner, which means that she is not, technically, a part of my job description. Do it yourself.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you still drunk?”

“Yes, a little,” he said. “And I need to vomit, so why don't you kindly fuck off and leave me alone?”

She stared at him in horrified astonishment. “You are my second-in-command,” she said. “Your 'job description' is to do what I tell you to do, or else – ”

“Or else what? You'll have me detained? You're welcome to try. The moment you do, you'll have the Cardassian government breathing down your neck – we may be an empire in decline, but our ample supply of annoying bureaucrats is a resource that will never run dry.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I'll take Julian from you. You aren't the only person able to carry out an execution on this station – I'm sure Odo will be thrilled to fill your shoes, and Julian's neck will be the first one on his chopping block.”

“Then I will contact your superiors and tell them about how you came across two persons from the other universe, and instead of turning them over, you _threw them a party._ I'm sure they'll also be interested in your 'duty collection' scheme with Sisko. You may have a lot of clout, but I don't think that your government looks kindly on corrupted officials – it makes them look bad.”

“Are you _blackmailing_ me?”

“Yes,” Garak said. “I suppose that I am.”

She stood there for several moments, quivering with rage. Just when Garak thought she was going to start screaming, she blinked. A sweet smile came over her face. “You know what? I think that you're tired. I get it – it's been an emotional couple of days for you. So I'm going to give you a couple more days to pull yourself together, and we'll just forget this whole thing ever happened, all right?” She left without waiting for a response.

Garak stared at the door for a long while after she left. Since almost the moment he arrived on the station, he'd been plotting her demise – so many careful schemes and machinations, all of which came to very little. He had made many excuses to himself to justify his constant failures, but in truth, it was because he was too afraid of her to be bold enough to finish the job. She loomed so large not only in his mind, but in the collective consciousness of the whole station – their great and terrible queen. 

And now, unless he was seriously misunderstanding Sisko, she would be dead in another two days. 

He went to the washroom and vomited; he felt better afterward. He'd managed to remove his armor last night before passing out, so he got redressed. After downing two raktajinos, he began to feel functional again. First, he sent for a Terran to take some food to Julian. When that was done, he contacted the necessary people to put the extermination plan into effect the next day. No one seemed suspicious; the vole problem had been going on for quite some time and needed to be addressed. Afterward, he toured the docks and selected a runabout he would use to make his escape. He locked it to make sure no one else would be able to get into it. Besides, he would have a head start. 

And that was that. It was amazing how little time it took to implement his part of the scheme. He still had a long stretch of hours before the day was over, so he went to check on Glinn Dukat and see how he was handling his duties. Dukat hemmed and hawed through Garak's questions, but Garak was soon able to determine that he had not begun the tortures the Intendant had ordered. He looked so miserable at the thought of what he was expected to do. Garak felt a twinge of pity. He knew he shouldn't risk doing anything out of the ordinary, but as Sisko had said, he didn't have much left to lose. He dismissed Dukat on the spot and told him to leave the station immediately. Dukat looked both devastated and relieved. Garak wondered what he would think when he heard the news of the station's destruction.

Finally, there were more hours behind him than ahead of him. There was one thing left to do. He went to Quark's old place again, this time by-passing what remained of the bar and making his way back to the whores' old quarters. Quark had mentioned that one of his girls had a penchant for gardening, and sure enough, one of the rooms was full of plants growing in containers, many of which were flowering. He found a vase, then picked some of the prettiest blooms to put in it. He stopped by the bar on his way out, picking up a nice set of dishes, a table cloth and two fancy glasses and put them in a box. 

He set off towards his quarters, feeling oddly calm. He was beginning to understand Sisko better – having nothing to lose took away his fear. He would have scoffed had anyone called him a fearful person before all of this had happened, but he realized now it was true. His whole personae was a front against the fear that had been with him since his miserable childhood. There was no need for it now. He was free. 

He headed towards the dining area first, placing the box on the floor beside the table. Julian appeared in the bedroom doorway, but was unable to come closer. When Garak had brought him back from his escape attempt, he'd been wearing work clothing that he must have gotten from Quark. Since that clothing was ruined, he was back to wearing Garak's ill-fitting leisure clothes. The shirt was perilously close to slipping from his shoulder. “Where were you?” he demanded. 

“Did you miss me?” Garak asked.

Julian glared at him in response. Garak ignored him for the moment and busied himself with setting the table. He put the flowers in the center of the table; after some searching, he found the half-empty box of chocolates and set it beside the flowers. He stood back and admired his work. It looked very nice. 

“Do you have any requests for dinner?” he asked. Unsurprisingly, Julian didn't respond. Garak shrugged and replicated some of his favorite Bajoran food. After arranging the food on the table, he took the key to Julian's restraining device from his pocket and knelt before him to reset the parameters far enough to reach the table. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Have a seat.”

Reluctantly, Julian sat down. Garak retrieved his last bottle of kanar from a cabinet, poured them both a glass and sat down himself. He grabbed a serving spoon and served them both. Garak hadn't really eaten anything all day, so he tucked into his plate with gusto. Julian didn't touch his food until Garak commanded him to. He knew he must be hungry.

When Garak was finished eating, he picked up his glass of kanar and leaned back in his chair. He enjoyed a few sips before addressing Julian again. “When you and your Elim are together, what do you do?” 

Julian was twirling his fork slowly around in his hand, as if contemplating stabbing Garak with it. He put it down before he answered. “We talk. We eat. We fuck.” 

Garak almost rolled his eyes. “What do you talk about?”

“Literature. Politics. Everything, really.” 

It wasn't quite what Garak wanted to hear, so he changed his questioning. “Describe to me the last time you and he spent time together. Be specific, please.”

He gave Garak a long, cold look before he began speaking. “He invited me to his quarters for dinner. He was going to cook me a Cardassian meal – I'd never really cared for Cardassian food, but he was convinced he could convert me. It turns out he's an excellent cook. I suppose that shouldn't surprise me – he has so many hidden talents that you'd think I'd learn to stop being caught off guard when he pulls out a new one. And he was right – the food was delicious.”

Garak shut his eyes. He imagined himself carefully preparing Julian a meal – something that would make his mouth water. Something he would enjoy. “And what did you talk about while you ate?”

“We like to exchange literature from our respective cultures to give us something to discuss; we both enjoy a good debate. It was my turn to pick our reading material. We'd been talking about the nature of love for the past couple of weeks, so I chose a controversial Terran classic about a sordid love affair - _Wurthering Heights._ He said it was dreadful – the so-called love between the main characters wasn't true love at all. I argued that an all-consuming passion wasn't an ideal form of love, but that it still could be considered such. I've since changed my mind.”

Garak didn't like reading. He was ten before anyone thought to teach him, and since then, he'd only used the skill to complete his work. He couldn't remember ever reading just for the pleasure of it. He also hated debates; his first instinct when someone disagreed with him was to have something of theirs cut off. Nevertheless, he tried to imagine himself as someone cultured – someone with grand ideas and the ability to express them eloquently. “And then you went to the bedroom,” he said. 

“Yes,” Julian spat. “Do you want the details of that as well?”

“That won't be necessary. What happened afterward?”

“He wanted me to spend the night, but I had some work to do early the next morning. I told him that I would stop by his shop the next day, but I didn't get around to it. And then I had to leave for the conference. We spoke briefly; I told him that when I got back, we would – ” 

There was a hitch in Julian's voice. Garak opened his eyes and saw Julian give his eye a quick wipe. “Don't cry,” Garak said gently. “Please don't cry.” 

Julian glared at him. “Why are you doing this? You chain me up and leave me for thirty-six hours, and now you're making me relive what turns out to be the last time I'll ever see the person I love. Is this some sort of torture technique?”

“No,” Garak said. 

“So what, then? You think that bringing me flowers is going to make this easier on me? Just – do whatever it is you're going to do to me. I said I wouldn't fight you, so what are you waiting for?” 

Garak put his glass down. He stood up and walked around to Julian's side of the table. Wordlessly, he held out a hand. Julian had to shut his eyes and steady himself for a moment before he accepted it.

Garak led him to the bedroom, stopping at the edge of the bed. He wasn't going to do anything to Julian, but he still wanted to pretend for a moment. Julian was trying to keep himself composed, but his breath had quickened and he was shaking with barely suppressed adrenalin. His shirt had slipped from his shoulder; when Garak brushed the bare skin with his fingers, Julian jerked away before he could stop himself. 

Garak sighed and turned away. He went to his dresser, keeping his back to Julian. “Lie down,” Garak said as he removed his armor. He changed into his sleeping clothes and turned back around. Julian had obeyed his order, lying stiffly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Garak got in under the covers and lowered the lights. “Go to sleep, Julian,” he said as he made himself comfortable. “I'm not going to touch you.” 

“Then what was the point of all this?” Julian sounded almost angry

Garak couldn't quite help himself. He rolled over and put his hands on either side of Julian's body. “Do you want me to?” he asked softly. Julian stared at him, wide-eyed, momentarily paralyzed. But when Garak began to lean down, he snapped out of it. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No." Garak rolled off of him and lay down again, his back to Julian. "Then go to sleep," he said.

Julian stayed tense for several minutes, but eventually pushed the blankets back and settled in himself. He huddled as far away from Garak as he could, but his warmth still filled the bed. Garak knew he should probably be worried that Julian would try to hurt him in his sleep, but he found it hard to care. It would all be over tomorrow, either way. He drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Garak woke early the next morning. He looked over at the other side of the bed and found that Julian had managed to fall asleep after all, although he looked tense even in his sleep. He got himself washed and dressed for the day as quietly as he could. Julian must have been exhausted because he slept through it all. 

Garak went to the dining area and replicated some breakfast for the two of them. While he was eating, he used his padd to browse through some archives; as luck would have it, some Bajoran anthropologist had taken an interest in Terran literature and Garak was able to access the novel Julian had spoken of. For the next hour, he read. He found the book difficult, the beginning in particular, but he managed to skim through to some of the interesting parts. _If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem apart of it..._

Julian appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed. He looked still looked exhausted. “Good morning,” Garak said. “Have some breakfast.” 

Julian sat and ate. Garak picked up his padd again. “I'm looking at that book you mentioned - _Wurthering Heights._ ”

“You want me to discuss literature with you,” Julian said flatly. “Really. That's what you want from me?”

“Yes,” Garak said. He looked back at the padd. “So tell me – you said that you don't think this Heathcliff and this Catherine really love each other. Why?”

“They are obsessed,” Julian said. “That is not the same thing as being in love. Frankly, I don't think either one of them are capable of real love, especially Heathcliff. You can't expect another person to 'complete' you – that's narcissism, not romance.”

“But you said that at first you did find it romantic. Why?”

“I suppose the idea of someone thinking of nothing but you has a certain appeal in the abstract. In practice, it's obnoxious, particularly coming from someone as hateful and damaged as Heathcliff.”

“Do you think if he changed himself, became a better person, then maybe – ”

“No,” Julian said before he could finish. “People like that can't change.”

“So he's a monster, then,” Garak said. “Incapable of love because of what he is. And you're probably right– he can't change. But he does still have feelings – surely you must grant him that. Maybe he's not capable of providing the sort of day-to-day caring that marks true love, but perhaps he could make some grand, selfless gesture...would that redeem him in your eyes?”

Julian looked startled at that. “What do you mean, 'a grand gesture?'”

Just then, the door chimed. Garak went to answer it; it was Sisko, as expected.

“The cargo ship will finish loading in sixty minutes,” he said. “I'm on my way to the Intendant's now. Pick up the Major and bring her here. I'll meet you here when I'm done, and we'll proceed from there.”

Garak simply nodded.

Sisko raised an eyebrow. “Not having second thoughts, I hope?”

“No,” Garak said. “And you?”

“Regrets,” Sisko said. “But second thoughts? No. I'll see you soon.” With that, he was gone.

Garak walked back to the dining area. Julian's restraining device had prevented him from following Garak to the door, but he was standing at the edge of the device's parameter. “That was Sisko, wasn't it? You're working together on something? What are you planning?”

Garak realized that this was probably the last moment alone they would have together. He pulled Julian forward and kissed him. It must have taken him by surprise because he didn't protest. Garak drew back before Julian came to his senses enough to push him away. “I have to go do something. I'll be back soon. Get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I'm letting you go.”

Julian's eyes widened in shock. Garak left before Julian could form a response. 

As he made his way to the holding cells, Garak tapped his comm badge to contact the Intendant. “I've changed my mind,” he said when she responded. “I don't know what I was thinking earlier. Of course I'll do what you asked me to.”

“So glad you've come to your senses,” she said. “You make a lousy drunk, Elim. You really need to stop taking this whole Julian business so seriously. It might not be all sunshine and roses like you were hoping, but he's still yours. They all stop fighting, eventually.” She paused. “Oh, that's the door – it's probably Benjamin. I'll tell the guards to expect you. Let me know how it goes.” 

The guards allowed him entrance without question. Major Kira was sitting on the floor of her cell in what looked like a meditative pose. When he unlocked the door and commanded her to follow him, she didn't fight him. She held her head high as he handcuffed her, clearly determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. 

On their way out, Garak stopped at Quark's cell. Quark was lying on the floor, curled up in a ball. His injuries appeared to have been healed, but his demeanor suggested that he was a long way from recovery. Garak checked to see if the guards were watching him; they weren't. Discreetly, he unlocked the door. At that, Kira finally deigned to look at him; she seemed understandably confused. Quark raised his eyes as well. He brought a finger briefly to his lips to signal them to be quiet. They both obeyed. 

Garak led Kira back to his quarters. Once they were safely inside, Garak released her from the handcuffs. Before she could ask him anything, they heard Julian calling from the dining area.

“Major Kira!” he said. 

She ran to the back and hugged him fiercely, laughing in relief. “I think we've been through enough to go by our given names, don't you?” she said.

Julian laughed himself and hugged her again. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “And you?”

“Yes,” Julian said. 

“Why did he bring me here?” Kira asked Julian, as if Garak wasn't even there.

“I don't know,” Julian said. “He said he was going to let me go. Sisko was by earlier – they seem to be planning something...”

Kira looked surprised. “He and Sisko? How did that happen?”

Julian shrugged his confusion. They turned in unison to look at Garak, as if suddenly remembering he was there. “What _are_ you planning?” Julian asked. “Do you really mean to let us go?”

“I do,” Garak said. “But there are conditions.”

“Of course there are,” Kira muttered. “Well? What are they?” 

“Sisko and I have a plan for this station, and we're going to need you to complete it.”

“I won't help you overthrow the Intendant,” she said. “Leaving this station in your hands is no better than leaving her in charge.”

“There's not going to be a station for anyone to be in charge of,” Garak said. “Not if everything goes according to plan. I have the codes to initiate a self-destruct sequence, but the computer requires that both the Intendant and I be present to start it. It uses a DNA scan to verify our identities, which is why I need you.”

They both looked horrified at the thought. “You really think I'd agree to help you kill all these people?” Kira said.

“Not at all. Sisko is planning on evacuating the Terrans. A cargo ship arrived this morning to pick up a shipment of refined ore. Sisko and his men will take control of it and load as many Terrans onto that ship and his own as he can, and he has a friend with cloaked ships who will beam out the rest. You can have your own shuttle; I have an escape vessel of my own ready. Everyone else will have to fend for themselves.”

“Why would you want to do this?” Kira asked.

“Julian will probably be able to explain,” Garak said. “I'll give you two a moment to discuss it, but you must decide quickly. Sisko is...taking care of the Intendant as we speak, but he'll be back any minute.”

Garak went to his bedroom and shut the door. He got out a bag and packed some clothing, his med kit, and a few weapons. He opened the secret safe he'd installed in the wall and removed the stash of latinum he kept there. It took him less than fifteen minutes to gather up everything he needed. He had nothing to show for the years of his life that he'd spent here; that was a good thing. He felt light, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. He swung his bag over his shoulder and left his bedroom for the last time.

When he returned to the dining area, he found Kira and Julian sitting at the table, looking somber. “Have you come to a decision?”

They exchanged one last glance. Kira stood up. “Yes,” she said. “I'll do it.”

“Good,” Garak said. He knelt down before Julian and undid his restraint. He could feel Julian's gaze on him, but he avoided returning it. He took his bag into the front room and sat down on the sofa to wait. 

After a few minutes, Julian entered the room. Garak didn't look at him, even when Julian gingerly sat down beside him. “Why didn't you tell me last night?” he said after a while. 

Garak shrugged. “I thought you would think it was another trick to get your sympathy. Was I wrong?”

“I suppose not.” More silence. “What will you do when this is all over?”

“The galaxy is a large place, like you said. I will discover what to do with myself eventually.” He finally turned to face Julian. The look on his face was exactly as unbearable as he expected it to be. “Don't look at me like that. I'm sure you're thinking, 'What a grand, selfless gesture – perhaps he's changed after all.' But I am still a monster. This is as selfish an act as any. I've always hated this place. Why not destroy it?”

“That wasn't what I was thinking.” 

“I still don't want your pity.”

“And you still don't have it,” Julian said, but Garak could tell he was lying.

The door chimed; Garak answered it. Sisko entered the room, holding a small satchel in one hand. 

“Is it done?” Garak asked. 

Sisko gave Garak an oddly cold look. “Yes,” he said. “It is done.” He looked around the room. “Where's the Major?”

“I'm here,” Kira said, emerging from the dining area. 

An unreadable expression crossed Sisko's face when he saw the Major, but he recovered himself quickly. “I trust that Garak has filled you in?”

She nodded. “I thought you said you weren't the heroic type.”

“I changed my mind.” He removed some clothes from the satchel and threw them to her. “Put these on.”

Kira hesitated for a moment, but did as he told her. When she came out again, she was wearing the Intendant's usual outfit. The effect was eerie; the only thing that marred the illusion was her crooked crown. Sisko walked toward her slowly, his face still inscrutable. He adjusted her crown. “There,” he said, sounding strangely tender. He lingered for a moment, touching a hand to her face before finally turning away. Perhaps his relationship with the Intendant had been more complicated than Garak had thought. 

“We don't have a lot of time,” he said. “We should go.”

Garak turned to Julian one last time. He felt like there was something else he should say to him – this man who had either destroyed his life, or else saved it. But what could he say, after everything he'd done to him? That he was sorry? That he was grateful? That he loved him? None of those things seemed adequate. “When you get to your side,” he said at last. “Tell your Elim that you're glad to see him. I think he'd like to hear that.”

Julian looked puzzled, but nodded. 

The rest of the it was a blur. They made their way to Ops unopposed. The Terrans were all corralled in the Promenade as planned; they had subtly sectioned themselves off into a few groups who would run for the cargo ship and Sisko's vessel, and a few who would wait to be beamed aboard the cloaked ships. A few unlucky guards were also there (Garak hated to think what would happen when they were beamed aboard the Terran ships), but most of the rest of the crew was sequestered in Quark's old place. 

The Major did a convincing enough impression of the Intendant to dismiss the remaining crew members in Ops. Once they were gone, Garak lowered the shields, and then she and Garak entered their codes. There was a tense moment before the computer voice intoned that they had been successful. They had fifteen minutes to evacuate. 

An explosion sounded from somewhere in the ship, causing them all to jump except for Sisko. “Further distraction, courtesy of my friend Smiley,” he said. “And I think that is our signal to leave.” He turned to Kira and Julian and handed them each a phaser from his satchel. “If you can't get back to your side, you are welcome to join us. Our resistance force could use a doctor and a guerrilla war expert.”

“Resistance movement?” Kira asked.

Sisko bared his teeth. “Two hundred Terrans is not a bad start for an army, wouldn't you say?”  
An army. Of course. Garak felt stupid for not seeing it. Not that it mattered – he planned to be long gone from this sector before anyone realized that he hadn't been killed on this station.

They made a run for the docks. The rest of the station was chaos. Some of the crew had caught on to who was responsible. Odo started to shout that Kira was an imposter, but Garak shot him before he could say much. The changeling exploded, globs of him flying everywhere and adding to the confusion. Telok caught sight of Garak and came after him with a roar; their struggle was brief, but Garak emerged victorious. He turned to see if he could find Julian again, to look at him one last time, but he and Kira were already gone. 

Garak fought off a few more desperate crewman and boarded his escape vessel. He was a respectable distance away when the station exploded. Ships and smaller vessels scattered every which way, each blinking into warp and shooting off in different directions. And then, just beyond the wreckage of the station, a bright light appeared and grew. Space itself opened into a swirling hole – like a gaping wound, or a window to another world. Garak couldn't decide which.

And then it was gone. He supposed he should leave, but where to go? He entered some random coordinates and engaged the warp drive. He would just have to trust that the universe would show him his way. Perhaps he would run into the version of Julian Bashir on his side. He wondered if they might be a better match. Stranger things have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END...maybe. If there's interest, I'm considering writing an alternate ending in which Garak doesn't do the noble thing, and keeps Julian captive instead. It would probably run another four or five chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Sooo, this is going to be awkward, but I thought I'd add a note to let everyone know that I've branched out into original work under the pen name Sera Trevor. I have three original novels available for free! 
> 
> My first book, "Consorting with Dragons," is a fairy tale comedy about an impoverished young lord who ends up attracting the attention of both a powerful dragon and the king himself, much to the consternation of the royal court who are less than impressed with his uncouth manners. If you like my sense of humor, I think you'll really enjoy it! It's available in all formats at the Goodreads M/M Romance Group's site [here.](http://bit.ly/2noeIlF) (Scroll to the bottom for the links.)
> 
> My second book, "A Shadow on the Sun," is an epic fantasy about a prince forced into a political marriage and the loyal knight who is determined to save him. This book is heavy on the angst and political intrigue. You can find it on Amazon [here](http://amzn.to/2ntg1la), or at Smashwords [here.](http://bit.ly/2nod4k3)
> 
> My last book, "The Troll Whisperer," is a contemporary tale about an internet troll who inadvertently falls for one of his victims. It's a comedy with a lot of heart as the main character learns to change his trolly ways. You can find it on Amazon [here](http://amzn.to/2nYQPnv), or at Smashwords [here.](http://bit.ly/2o36ToF) The short story sequel, "The Pink Wedding," is available for $.99 [here](http://amzn.to/2orp2bP) and [here.](http://bit.ly/2na9lVo)
> 
> I also have a [website!](http://www.seratrevor.com) You can keep up with my releases by signing up for my newsletter [here.](http://www.seratrevor.com/newsletter.html)


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